Finding Narnia: Aftermath
by FyreFlyte
Summary: Peter is having trouble adjusting to life back in England after LWW. It takes a slight nudge from a certain Just King to get him back on track. No slash. This is my first fic, so any help would be greatly appreciated! UPDATED!
1. Back to School

_Hey guys, thanks so much for checking this out. This is my first fic, so any help would be great. ____ Thank you to Gwenneth and Elecktrum for getting me obsessed with Narnia in the first place!_

_Usual disclaimer applies: this sandbox belongs to C. S. Lewis, I just like making sand castles. _

**Chapter One:**

I grunted and hefted my bag of books onto my other shoulder. I was slightly annoyed by the fact that I found it decently heavy….I was still accustomed to having much more strength. If I was still….well, if things were the way they should be, this bag wouldn't have been a problem.

I paused for a moment, pushing back the wave of grief, and resolutely drew a deep breath. Today was the first day of school for us since we had returned from Professor Kirke's house. I was approaching it with mixed and confused emotions. How does one go from being a High King to being a mere student, another boy in the classroom…?

The warning bell buzzed right above my head, making me jump and reach automatically for Rhindon. I paused again and scowled, trying to ignore the strange looks I was getting from the few students racing down the halls. I really needed to break that habit….but every time I tried, Orieus' words would pop into my head, screaming at me to _never hesitate in battle…._

I shook my head again, sending my too-short, unfamiliarly styled blond hair flying in every direction. I still kept thinking that I had a beard, that my skin was tan, that I was tall, muscular, and slender, with a crown of gold gracing my brow…

Biting my lip, I rushed to class. I had not had the chance to talk to any of my friends – oh, it seemed so _long_ ago! – and I found myself wondering if any of them would be in with me today. I grimaced to myself. They would notice the change, surely; how could anyone miss it?

At least my predicament was better than Edmund's, and I felt a pang of pity for my younger, Just sibling. His former "friends" were nothing, _nothing _like he was now….once, maybe, but ever since Narnia….

The bell buzzed again as I practically flew into the classroom, silently berating myself. I had not been late for anything in very long time, and on the rare occasion I had been it hadn't mattered. I was the High King, and so therefore – as Edmund liked to joke – I could hardly be late for a meeting of some sort that was called by me. I couldn't punish _myself…_well, not in theory, anyway.

"You're cutting it a bit fine." The teacher gave me a warning glare, his tone of voice disapproving. My first instinct was to draw myself up to my full height, smile charmingly, and calmly dismiss the matter in a manner that left no room for argument and definitely confirmed that I was a king. I clamped down hard upon the urge, and it took all of my self control to duck my head, look ashamed, and murmur a fervent apology.

I didn't like it. It went against my being, my very nature….

I sat down in the first available seat I saw, which, luckily enough, was in the back of the room. I didn't know the people around me very well, either, and I avoided looking around for fear of catching the eye of someone I knew.

The class seemed to drag on for a cruel amount of time. It was math, something I was already well educated in, and something that I had been studying for more years than I was old in this world. Interestingly enough, I managed to notice during the first and only five minutes of my attention that math here in England was somehow simpler than what we had been learning in Narnia. It was surprisingly primitive.

Bored beyond reason, I gazed absently at my desk, trying vainly not to let my thoughts stray towards Narnia. Unfortunately, my seat was next to the window, and if I looked out I knew I would be unable to stop myself from comparing what the English called nice weather to the brilliant glory of my home. I sighed very quietly, my chest aching with loss, remembering our days as Kings and Queens….

"Peter Pevensie, pay attention!"

I started as something hard rapped harshly across my knuckles, turning them red. The blow stung, and although it was nothing compared to some of my past injuries, it took my by surprise. Again I responded with what seemed like the only reflex reaction I knew; I leapt to my feet with shocking speed, my hand flying to the hilt of my….nonexistent sword.

I blinked in confusion for an instant before I realized what was happening. The teacher and the rest of the class were staring at me in shock. I felt my cheeks grow warm, my hand dropping down. The ache in my chest had intensified.

"I ap – sorry," I half-managed, catching myself just in time. I had almost launched straight into the formal apology that I used when in court. Inside, I shook my head in despair. What was I going to _do?_ I didn't belong in this world!

"What," the teacher said coldly, eyeing me with disdain, "Was that, Pevensie?"

I didn't like the way he was looking at me. It reminded me far too much of the many times I had had to defend Narnia, myself, and my siblings from opposing groups. Particularly the nobles who had thought we were mere children who hardly deserved the thrones.

They had regretted their tongues. I wanted nothing more than to make my poor excuse for a teacher regret his as well.

Instead, I summoned up my strength and battered the desire down. I was not usually so quick-tempered, but the sudden change from High King to anonymous schoolboy had not settled well with me at all. I hadn't been my true self in nearly a month, and neither had Edmund, Susan, or Lucy.

We were all lost.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, hoping I sounded respectful. I almost bowed to him, and then caught myself just in time…again. "You startled me when you rapped my hand, is all." Now that I thought about it, why _had_ he rapped my hand? It wasn't right for teachers to be able to "beat" students in class. What was this society thinking?

"You weren't paying attention." It was a statement, not a question. He was still glaring at me, and I did not like it. At all. If this had happened in Narnia….well, I wouldn't have had a problem telling him off. Or I would have just let Edmund deal with him. My silver-tongued brother could make even the most arrogant man feel ashamed with a few quick, well-delivered blows. Sometimes all he needed was the tone of voice.

I nearly bowed again, knowing how I would handle it if this were Narnia. I caught myself again and swore in my head. Would this ever end?

"I'm sorry, sir," I apologized yet again. "It may have appeared that I was not paying attention, but I assure you that I have absorbed the material." I nearly added something about the hand rapping, but I held my tongue, even though I definitely did not want to.

The teacher was not as convinced. He glared at me through suspicious eyes, making me squirm inwardly at the memories.

"You will do well, then, to answer the following problem." The way he said it made me stop and puzzle over it for a moment. Then it hit me, and I winced. I had spoken too formally for a boy my age in my society. He was trying to respond in kind, but he most likely thought my formalness was a way of being impolite. I let out a frustrated sigh.

The teacher strode over to the chalkboard, snatched a worksheet from his desk, and then started to copy a problem onto the board. As I watched him, I found that it was my turn for my eyes to narrow dangerously. The problem was not hard – not for me, at least – but it was definitely not one that would have appeared in our class. Or if so, it would not happen until the end of the year.

This guy was just determined to get me, wasn't he?

….not like I wasn't used to that.

He finished about thirty seconds later, writing the last number with a small flourish. He seemed confident that this would confound me. Too bad he didn't know who he was challenging….

Still, I couldn't help but give my dear teacher a warning. As he turned towards me, grinning smugly, I allowed myself to let go of a fraction of my true being. I drew myself up, bearing my body in a regal manner that could only be duplicated in Narnia. I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and let my cool blue eyes meet his suddenly uncertain ones. I knew that I was probably emanating what Edmund jokingly called "our scariest and most unpredictable weapon." I had never witnessed it for myself, obviously, but apparently I could give off quite an aura when provoked.

Saying nothing, I swept past him and to the board, letting my feet glide across the floor. I didn't let go completely, of course – that would have been more than disconcerting for the whole class – but it was as much I would ever allow, and I was happy about it. My centaur posture teacher would have gone crazy if she had seen me walking like this, but England didn't know any better.

Snatching up the chalk, I turned to the long problem and completed it almost absentmindedly, smiling a little to myself. I hadn't realized before how advanced Narnia was. Although with the centaurs' knowledge, it was hardly surprising…I should have guessed.

Just as I was about to finish, I heard the door open and turned around to see who it was. My mouth nearly dropped. What was Edmund doing here?

My dark-haired brother glanced around, saw me, and stared, looking confused. I shrugged, giving him one of those there's-this-guy-that-wants-to-do-me-in looks, and he frowned. Our silent exchange probably went unnoticed to the rest of the class – Edmund and I had a very close bond.

Then again, White Witches and Giants and wars and ruling countries might do that to you.

The teacher looked annoyed to be interrupted.

"What do you want?" he snapped. I bristled, and I thought I saw Edmund's eyes flash briefly.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said in a voice that sounded quite sincere – although it was fake to me, because I knew him so well. I could detect a hint of annoyance underneath his tone, and I knew that, without a doubt, Edmund was having as many problems adjusting as I was. "My math teacher had me come to this class. She said my original one was too simple for me."

I stifled a laugh. Calculus five billion would be too simple compared to what we knew.

The teacher flashed me a glare, and then froze, eyes widening in surprise at the completed – and correct – problem displayed on the board behind me. Now Edmund had to control his laugh. The class stared.

Seriously annoyed now, the teacher whipped back to Edmund.

"What's your name?" he barked. For a moment, I imagined what the expression on Oreius' face would have been if he had heard anyone speaking to Narnia's kings in that manner. It was quite funny.

"Edmund Pevensie, sir," Edmund said respectfully; the teacher's eyes widened in surprise. He turned to glare at me.

"It seems that brains run in your family," he said coolly, sounding angry for some reason I could not name. "Get back to your seat. You – " he pointed at Edmund, " – sit over there."

Edmund calmly went to the only other open seat – the one in the front row – while I retreated hastily to my back corner. He grimaced at me as we passed each other; I gave him my well-doesn't-this-seem-familiar look, and he gave me his Ha-I'm-in-the-front-lines-you're-not retort. I gave my eyes a minute roll that he caught immediately; we had perfected it in court over the course of our rule. He poked his tongue out in retaliation.

A few people snickered quietly, and I realized we hadn't gone unnoticed; although, thankfully, our wonderful teacher seemed to have missed the entire thing. Despite my annoyance with him, with the school, with England – the world in general – I managed a small smile. With Edmund here, everything suddenly looked three times better than it had. We were going to survive our first day of school.

* * *

"Edmund, hurry up. We're going to be late." I glanced uneasily at my watch; we were cutting it very fine. Our gym class was in four minutes, and we still had to make it to the locker rooms.

"Just a sec, Pete," his muffled voice came from the office's interior. He had been there for five minutes already, trying to get his schedule changed around so that he was in all of my classes. Of course, this was only because during the last three classes he had been sent to somewhere higher, because he was obviously bored with them. I was doing my best to look like I fit in so that we could be together.

Two minutes later he finally emerged, carrying a folded sheet of paper and looking immensely pleased with himself. I held out my hand, and he flicked the paper at me as we started racing towards the locker rooms.

I blinked in surprise.

"Ed, how did you manage this?" I asked in disbelief, a wide smile sneaking across my face. He had gotten the two of us into every single class together. Edmund looked at me in mock exasperation.

"King Edmund Silver-Tongue, remember? All you have to do is act dumber than you are so that you don't get moved up as well."

I laughed.

"You used diplomacy! Oh…those poor secretaries didn't have a chance."

"Hey, I'm not going to just let all of my experiences go to waste," he said seriously as we dashed into the locker rooms and hastily changed clothes. He hesitated slightly, and then added, "And neither should you."

I said nothing for a moment. His words hurt me, because they touched one of my most sensitive spots. Of course I didn't want to lose everything I'd learned in Narnia, but what could I do? Magnificence just didn't work here. I'd open a door for a girl, and she'd glare at me and tell me she wasn't interested, even though my only intent was courtesy. I would speak politely and people would think I was mocking them. I drew myself up to my full height and people thought I was intimidating them.

Nothing worked.

"I don't know how, Ed," I confessed quietly. He paused, and I could feel his eyes on the back of my head. I kept my own eyes down as I re-locked my locker with unnecessary slowness, avoiding the contact. I started when he laid a hand on my shoulder.

"You could start by looking up," he suggested softly. "The crown isn't what makes the king, Peter, so stop thinking that you have one and just let yourself go."

The bell rang, and he darted out the door. I remained frozen in place, watching him leap straight into his new life, eyes shining like the king he was. He was right. I was blocking myself from myself, blinding me to everything that I could be doing.

Thank Aslan for my annoying, headstrong, wonderful, wonderful brother.

I grinned, straightened up, and followed him out the door.

_What do you think? I was planning on it being a one-shot, but should it be longer? I was thinking maybe they would join the chess club. Please let me know your thoughts!_


	2. Keeping it Alive

_Hey everyone! I have decided to continue with this. Thank you to all of those who were brave enough to read a first-timer's story, and extra thanks to those of you who were kind enough to review. You are very encouraging!_

_Also, special thanks to Elecktrum for helping me with the grammar and the plot – I completely forgot that they go to a boarding school! As a result, I have realized that my knowledge of the Pevensie's world is limited, so I cannot guarantee that this story will be completely accurate. With that said, read on!_

* * *

**Chapter Two: **

I burst out of the classroom and nearly smacked into some poor scrawny boy walking by. Instantly ashamed, I stopped, apologized profusely, and then shot right by him and out the front doors of the school building.

"Ed, honestly! I knew you were bored, but I didn't know it was _that _unbearable!"

I skidded to a halt and looked back at the front doors, waiting while Peter hastily ran to catch up, book bag bouncing around on his shoulders. I flashed him an apologetic smile and started walking towards the dorm rooms. A second later he was beside me, slightly out of breath and looking annoyed.

"That science teacher was giving you disapproving looks. You're going to be getting the silent treatment tomorrow," he informed me once he'd gotten his breath back. I shrugged, not exactly concerned. As if disapproving science teachers were a threat compared to…oh, violent giants?

"Right," I said, switching my book bag to my other shoulder. "I'm terrified."

Peter gave me an exasperated look.

"Okay, fine," I relented a little bit. "I know I shouldn't have bolted out of there like that, but the classes were starting to wear on me just as much as they were on you. And besides….he can't be any worse than that math teacher, can he?" Peter grimaced.

"No. But we're supposed to respect our teachers, Edmund, you know that. Just because we're…" he trailed off as a large group older boys swept by us, yelling excitedly over something, "…not in Narnia anymore doesn't mean it doesn't apply."

I felt my face break into a wide and goofy grin. I was ecstatic. Peter was finally getting it!

"Exactly," I said cheerily, allowing myself to do a little bounce in place. "That's why I wasn't very respectful last period. I was hoping that you'd see it and be able to think more about how to be High King of England!"

Peter stared at me, aghast.

"Edmund Pevensie, what did you eat today?" he asked, sounding slightly fearful.

"Nothing out of the ordinary…." I laughed and skittered around the question. The real reason I felt ready to burst with happiness was because today was the first day that I'd seen Peter emerge from his shell of misery. After our conversation in the locker room he had been able to actually smile and laugh without faking it. He'd been able to talk to his old friends (albeit shyly) and act somewhat normal while still projecting that aura of a king. It wasn't obvious to those around us, naturally, but I could tell the difference like I could tell the night from the day. He hadn't completely released himself yet – he wasn't his true self – but he was definitely on the path to getting there.

"So…"

I switched my attention back to the present as my older brother, still looking at me with confusion, started on another train of thought. "Just how _do_ you manage to keep Narnia inside of you while living in England, then? I've been trying, but it still feels like something isn't quite clicking."

I knew exactly what he was talking about. England was so different from our true home that at times it felt like it was impossible to make the two mix.

"Well…" I started slowly, trying to find the right words to express my own jumbled thoughts, "It's not going to happen overnight, obviously. You were actually doing a pretty good job today – "

"I what?" Peter interrupted, flummoxed.

"Oh, come on." I waved my hand impatiently. "You were more like yourself today than you have been for the last four weeks! Don't tell me you didn't notice the difference."

"Well, I did!" Peter said defensively, "I just don't consider it '_good_.' I mean, I still felt like I was floundering around half the time."

"_Half_ the time," I jumped on the phrase, "But not _all _the time. It's a start, no?"

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating that.

"A start to what?" he mumbled, looking at his feet and refusing to meet my eyes. I shoved down my exasperation and my pity, feeling as if something had punctured my bubble of happiness. He wasn't all right yet, and I had known that, but I still hadn't been able to keep myself from hoping…

No, I needed to stop thinking like that. I couldn't expect Peter to just hop right back into England without problems, to just magically be able to balance the king and the schoolboy. Not when he had loved Narnia so much.

Not when _I_ had loved Narnia so much.

"To living again," I said finally, biting my lip. "To keeping Narnia alive in our actions and our words, and to using our experience to teach the people here."

"Edmund," Peter said in a this-is-very-obvious voice, "I don't know if you've noticed, but it's rather difficult to teach the people here how to fight with swords and treat everybody as equals without sounding like you have a mental problem."

"I know that, Peter," I said, not quite able to keep the annoyance out of my voice. It wasn't exactly his fault that he had been so touchy lately, but in all honesty it was starting to wear on me. "That's not exactly what I'm talking about. I'm saying that you can make a difference just by being who you are, _my liege._ You don't necessarily have to teach people. If _you _start to treat everyone as equals, it's going to make others around you notice. Narnia wasn't the only country that needed magnificence, you know.

"We can't keep Narnia alive if we keep it inside ourselves. It was meant to be shared with everyone, including countries in different worlds. Maybe we can't take everyone in England to Cair Paravel, but we _can _show them what it's like to be there."

Peter was quiet. He had that look on his face that meant he was seriously considering something, and I was secretly pleased. Maybe, just maybe, I was getting through to him.

I looked away to give him time to himself, and my eyes fell on the bulletin board. My lips cracked into a wide and mischievous grin.

"Also," I continued, and Peter looked up in alarm at the glee in my voice, "We need to do the things we enjoyed at Cair Paravel here as well. That is a very key point in keeping Narnia alive. So, it looks like we both have a little appointment tonight at 5:30 in room 106."

"We do?" Peter asked in trepidation.

"Uh-huh. You and I are going to join the chess club."

"We're WHAT?" Peter exclaimed, planting both feet on the ground and staring at me like I was crazy (a sentiment no doubt echoed by many beings throughout my lifetime). "Oh no, we're not. Don't even think about it."

"Oh yes, we are," I argued back, my don't-mess-with-me-I've-already-made-up-my-mind voice coming into play. Peter groaned.

"Are you kidding me? Chess in Narnia was one thing, but can you imagine trying to do it _here?!_"

I couldn't. Well, not exactly. Usually we played chess as part of our training, and were watched carefully by Oreius. It was a very good way to learn how to strategize in battle. There were many nights in my memory where Peter and I had stayed up late by our fireplace, each of us determined to beat the other for once. We were very evenly matched.

"Besides," Peter was still ranting, "The other members wouldn't stand a chance! You know how good we both got….it would hardly be fair!"

"Exactly," I crowed. He'd given me an opening, and I jumped through it. "We'll be able to teach them so much! Give it a few months and the chess club will be unbeatable, just like your army!"

Peter groaned again, clearly realizing he'd lost this battle to me. Again.

"I don't know why all of Narnia was under that impression when I was beaten by you nearly every other day."

"I think it was more than that," I said cheerily, winking at him. "And I don't know why people called me silver-tongue when you could best me whenever you got injured…which was about every day."

"I did not!"

"Oh yes, you did. I swear you got hurt in some way, but whether it was a paper cut or an arrow through the shoulder is something else entire – "

Peter burst out laughing, no doubt at the look on my face. I reluctantly grinned in response, pushing away the bad memories of the battlefield. I hadn't seen him laugh like this in so long…

"Okay, fine." He surrendered once he'd finished laughing. He straightened up and smiled at me, his blue eyes shining with a glint of something I had not seen in nearly a month. "Let's join the chess club, then, and I'll show you that I definitely _can_ beat you when I'm _not _injured."

I laughed with relief, real joy filling me now. Peter the Magnificent, my wonderful, wonderful brother, was finally back.

* * *

_Sorry it's so short; the next chapter will be much more interesting, and will include the chess match and Lucy! Thanks for reading!_


	3. Chess Club

_Hey everyone: here is chapter three! Thank you for all of your reviews; they were very encouraging, and they keep me going. Also, thank you again to Elecktrum for helping me with my plot errors!_

_I will apologize ahead of time; I did not proofread this story as well I usually do, on account of wanting to get it posted before things get crazy here, so please let me know if there are any errors or weird phrasings. Thank you! _

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

I slipped into my dorm room and headed for the telephone in the corner, thankful that I was the only one there. My assigned roommate was not at school for the time being, on account of the evacuation. I had never met him before and had no idea where he had been evacuated to, but at the moment I couldn't spare him any thoughts. My sole focus was on one thing, and that was speaking to my dear sister again.

I hastily dialed the number and waited nervously while the phone connected. A few moments later there was a click, and my mother's voice came over from the other end.

"This is Helen Pevensie. Can I help you?"

"Hi, Mom, it's Peter." I stifled a groan of exasperation. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk to her; it was just that she was going to question me mercilessly, and I really wanted to talk to Lucy.

For a moment, I let myself slip into the shock at myself, for my cold-heartedness. What kind of son would rather talk to his little sister than to his mother? It wasn't that I didn't love her….just that I'd grown up without her. I'd become a sort of father to my younger siblings, and as their father I was concerned about them and wanted to talk and be with them whenever possible.

"_Peter!_" Mother half shrieked from the other end. "Oh, goodness, dear, it's so good to hear from you! How was you first day? Do you like your teachers? Do have a lot of homework? Is Edmund doing all right?"

Jeez….it'd only been less than twenty-four hours since we'd last spoken.

"Yeah, he's fine. I…"

I hardly listened to myself as I prattled on, my thoughts straying to Lucy, Susan, and whatever Edmund might be doing. He would have accompanied me here, but he felt that it really was his responsibility to get to know his roommate, and I knew when not to argue with him. Besides….responsibility was something that had been drilled into our heads over the course of our lifetimes, and we weren't about to shirk it now.

"….have homework, I'd better let you go, then," my mom was saying. I jerked to awareness and said hastily,

"Oh….well, yes….but before you go, may I speak to Lucy briefly?" For a lifetime, actually, but I couldn't say that.

"Of course, dear, I'll put her right on." I heard a distant cry of "_Lucy!" _and then, "Oh, goodness! I didn't see you there!"

I smiled. Lucy had no doubt been waiting right behind Mother the whole time, just as eager to talk to me as I was to her. A moment later, her bright and excited voice came over the phone.

"Peter! How are you?"

"Lucy!" I exclaimed, happier at hearing her voice than I would ever admit. I knew I had probably just squeaked like the Talking Mice did when their tails got stepped on, but I didn't care. "How was your day? Did you get homework? Have you talked to Susan? Are you lonely at home? Did you make any friends?"

"_Peter…" _I could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "You sound like Mom!"

I was momentarily shocked into speechlessness. I _did…_what was getting into me? I really was acting like their father. Or their mother, come to think of it. Probably a combination of both.

Lucy giggled.

"If only I could see the look on your face," she sighed, laughing. "I'm fine, Peter. What's going on with you? Edmund called a few hours ago and said something about dragging you around the school until you got some sense knocked into you."

"Oh he _did,_ did he?" I growled good-naturedly, laughing quietly at my younger brother. "I don't know about dragging me around the school, but he did give me a couple lectures. Oh, wait…he dragged me into chess club."

"He what?" Lucy sounded scandalized. "He should know better than that. And I thought that he was Just!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The fact that you're both aces at chess, of course." I could just see her waving her hand around in exasperation.

"Oh. That. Well you really needn't be worried; we had a great time and I think our presence was…appreciated," I said delicately, knowing that I had hooked her.

"Peter, what happened?" She knew me too well.

"Well, it goes something like this…."

* * *

There was a loud rapping at my door, and I jerked in surprise, my book falling out of my lap and landing on the ground with a _thud._

"Peter, if you don't come out right this instant, I will barge in there and _drag_ you to chess club whether you like it or not!"

I groaned to myself and picked up the book, reluctant to leave it. I had been quite immersed and was eager to finish the chapter I was on.

"I'm coming Ed, keep your crown on," I called through the door, fishing my shoes out from under my bed and shoving them on my feet. I reached for the handle, but the door swung open before I touched it, revealing my anxious brother.

"Oh, good, you're ready. Come on!" He grabbed my hand and practically pulled me away from my room; it was all I could do to reach back and hastily shut the door behind us.

"For the love of Aslan, Edmund, why are you in such a hurry?" I managed to free myself from his grasp and straightened up, massaging my wrist. "Did you seriously doubt that I would come?"

"Maybe." He grinned at me, grabbed my wrist again, and continued to half-pull, half-lead me down the hallway. "It wouldn't have been the first time you tricked me like that. But anyway…chess club starts in five minutes, so you'd better move a sight bit faster if you want to get there in time."

"What? Five minutes?" I must have been reading longer than I'd thought. "All right, I'm coming. Just let go of my wrist!"

Five minutes later we were standing uncertainly in room 106, looking around at the scattered – and rather scared – students, who all seemed to be waiting for something. It was 5:30, but none of them had started assembling the chess boards yet.

"What are they waiting for?" Edmund asked me quietly, a slight crease between his eyebrows that meant he was running through a myriad of possibilities. I shrugged and shook my head, waiting for whatever the others were waiting for before I decided to answer.

The next second Edmund's question was answered as a tall, brown-haired boy of about my age bust into the classroom. He was burly and looked rather intimidating to the other members, and I didn't like the look in his eyes. It reminded me of the few power-hungry rebels I'd had to deal with in my time as a king.

"Okay everybody," the boy started without bothering to look around at who was there. He sounded very bossy, and his tone of voice left no room for argument from the other members. The others, I noticed, seemed to be about his age or younger. Edmund was probably the youngest, though, by the looks of it. They looked scared.

"Mr. Ilke wasn't able to make it today, so as your captain I'll be running the meeting," the boy continued, and I saw everyone in the room stiffen, casting each other frightened glances. "Everyone pair up like normal and start playing. I'll help you with strategy."

Edmund and I glanced at each other, frowning. Something definitely wasn't right here, judging by the terrified looks the members were giving each other. I heard two of them talking quietly as I passed them to get a chess set from the table.

"…without Mr. Ilke, John is going to be awful!" one was muttering. The other nodded vigorously.

"I want to get out of here, but he'd see right through us. Besides, even if we could come up with a good excuse, he'd never let us go. Why does he have to be such a bully?"

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. Edmund had apparently overheard the conversation as well, because he was looking at the boy – John – with a new kind of intensity. I recognized the look…John had better be on his best behavior if he didn't want to get soundly and thoroughly told off by King Edmund the Just.

"What should we do, do you think?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth as I bent next to him, under the pretense of getting a set of chess pieces.

"Let's let it play out," I muttered back, "And if he really is as awful as the impression I'm getting, then we challenge him to a chess match."

Edmund stared at me.

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking..."

"…I am."

A slow smile spread across his face, and he lightly whacked me on the arm as we retreated to a nearby table to "play chess" and observe John.

"You'll never change, will you?" he asked. There was something else in his eyes…joy of a different scale, a happiness so deep that I doubted I would ever find the bottom. I smiled back at him, letting the connection between us stretch like I hadn't let it since Narnia.

"No. I won't." He blinked and let his eyes fall to the table between us.

"Good," he whispered, sounding slightly strangled, "Because I'm never going to let you disappear, you know." I felt my shell soften yet again. The change had been hard on Edmund as well, not just me. I knew that I'd been hurting him with my emptiness. Usually I was the strong one that held us together, but this time it had been Edmund's turn, and for that I was far more thankful than I would ever be able to express.

"I know," I said simply, knowing that he could understand my unspoken words far better than the ones I had uttered. I spread the board out in front of us. "Are you ready to get soundly beaten?"

He looked up, eyes shining with happiness and a hint of mischief.

"Nope."

As it turns out, Edmund meant exactly that. He put up a very good fight, and I was hard-pressed to keep him away from my king…he seemed to have his pieces _everywhere._ Anyone would think that a game of this scale required intense concentration on our part, but we were only half-paying attention. We were far more interested in what John was up to, and we didn't like what we saw.

"Honestly, Mason, why are you even _on_ this chess team?" he was snapping exasperatedly to a terrified boy who looked only a little older than Edmund. He pointed at the board. "Even the thickest idiot could see that if you move your knight there, you're leaving your king open to attack from that bishop. What is wrong with you? Learn to open your eyes and think, or you can just leave!"

Beside me, Edmund made a little noise of disgust. I felt sorry for the poor boy – whose last name was Mason – and I couldn't help but look forward to what I knew was inevitably coming for John.

"Well maybe," Mason's partner piped up, glaring uncertainly at John and sounding both terrified and angry, "You could actually help him instead of telling him how awful he is. Why are you even the captain anyways? Everybody hates you!"

There was a collective gasp from the other members, and I noticed several of them go white with terror. They were all staring at John, who now looked positively murderous. I was getting the impression that somehow this happened regularly, and I shot a glance at Edmund. He nodded slightly and fixed his gaze on John, his eyes glinting with that steeliness I so admired.

"Montgomery, you still haven't learned to hold your tongue, have you?" John asked coolly of the now-trembling boy.

"Excuse me, but I have the same question he did. Why are you captain when you are clearly not helping anyone?"

John whipped around in poorly concealed surprise. Edmund and I had drifted over, unnoticed, and were now eye-to-eye with him. I regarded him with the same coolness I had used for Susan's suitors….polite, but not necessarily welcoming or inviting.

"What?" John asked lamely, completely taken aback.

"I said," Edmund repeated, "Why are you the captain? Your members are exhibiting all signs of resentment possible under the sun, and I haven't seen you give any adequate advice so far."

"'Adequate advice'?" John spluttered angrily. "Just who are you and who do you think you are?"

"I'm sorry, I believe we failed to introduce ourselves," I spoke up for Edmund. "I am Peter Pevensie, and this is my brother, Edmund. And you are…?"

"Why do you care?" John snapped. I could read the uncertainty in his eyes, and I knew that he was unused to being challenged. Apparently his intimidation tactics were not working on us. "You're interfering with the meeting, thank you very much! Either get back to your board and start listening, or leave!"

"Listen to what, though?" Edmund asked calmly, unfazed by John's anger. "As I said, you haven't been helping anyone. If you can't do the job, why are you captain?"

"They voted for me," John said mulishly. "Now go back to your board!"

"Actually, we have a proposal for you," I spoke up, ignoring his demands. "It seems to us that your members are not thrilled with their decision. Edmund and I would like to challenge you to a chess match."

John was silent, glaring at us.

"And what happens to the winner of the chess match?" he asked, trying to act indifferent but betraying his interest with his question.

"The winner will become the captain of the chess club," Edmund supplied. "The one who does not win is free to leave the chess club or stay, depending on what appeals to them. Will you accept?"

John was quiet for a time, glaring at us. I could read the expressions on his face and in his eyes quite well, and I got a general idea of what he was thinking. He was a bully – unused to being challenged and unwilling to pass up an opportunity to prove himself. Based on the way he had been treating the others, I was fairly certain that he considered himself a very good chess player, and it was fortunate for us that he had not been watching us play.

"I accept," he said fiercely.

* * *

"Oh, Peter, you didn't!" Lucy sounded torn between pride, pity, and amusement.

"Actually, we did." I chuckled. "You didn't see him, Lu, so I'm sure it sounds like we were rather mean, but he was being quite a beast to the other members. I was afraid of what he would have done to them if we hadn't been there."

"Well, tell me what happened!" she demanded, laughing, and I complied.

* * *

John turned out to be a better chess player than we had expected, and during the match it became clear why he had been chosen as captain by both the members and Mr. Ilke, the supervisor. He had bullied the members into voting for him, and Mr. Ilke had agreed because John was probably the best chess player there.

…Excluding myself and Edmund, of course.

We did not beat him in five moves or less, like we were perfectly capable of doing; rather, we let him have a chance to show his skill. Neither of us wanted him to be so embarrassed that he would leave the club – we wanted him to stay and learn what he could.

We wanted to change his coldness into something caring and admirable.

The match took about fifteen minutes. We were surrounded by the members, who were mostly silent and awed as they watched us war back and forth across the board. I allowed John to take one of our bishops, knights, and a few pawns (Edmund was against getting rid of the knight), and we refrained from attacking his pieces when he unintentionally left them wide open. When we finally decided enough was enough, Edmund executed one of my battle tactics and caught his king between our rooks and our other knight.

John looked shocked. I took that to mean that he hadn't lost a chess match in a long time.

"That…was a very good game," he managed finally, which, coming from him, was probably saying quite a lot. I highly doubted that admitting something like that came easily to him, and I was impressed with his show of character. There was still hope for him.

"Yes, it was," Edmund said respectfully. "You play very well."

John shrugged.

"I sincerely hope that you will stay and help us with the chess club," I said, looking for a way to reach him. Edmund stepped in for me.

"We could teach you some of our moves, and I would love it if you taught us some of yours," he said enthusiastically. "For instance, that play with the knight and the queen was very unusual; it could have been quite effective, I think, if you'd had the bishop on the other side of our center pawn. It was an excellent idea. Who taught you how to play chess?"

John looked surprised that we would be so interested. I could tell in that moment that he had no friends, and I began to understand a little bit of his attitude from before. For him, the only way he'd been able to feel worthwhile was when he'd been chess captain, and the only way he'd known how to keep the members under control was to act tough and leave no room for argument. Underneath, though, he really wasn't so bad.

Trust Edmund to see that and be the one to drag it up. He and John were now exchanging chess stories with alarming speed, and I was pleased to see that John was smiling tentatively at him. King Edmund the Just had apparently gotten through his defenses.

I started at the realization. He really was King Edmund right now. I knew that some people – Mr. Ilke, maybe, if he were here – would see only a mediocre boy who happened to be good at chess, but I saw far more. A mediocre boy would not have been able to draw John out of his shell with a few well-spoken words and a chess match. Only Edmund could have done that.

I smiled and turned to the other members, the success of my dear brother making me want to succeed as well.

"Okay, everyone. What would you like to learn?"

They grinned in excitement, and flocked to me.

"Whatever you have to teach us," Montgomery squealed excitedly. I grinned back at them, the words taking on several meanings. I could teach them not only how to strategize in chess, but also how to be polite, how to inspire, how to lead, and how to care. I could teach them to be magnificent, each one in their own unique way.

And it was then that I realized what Edmund had been trying to teach me all along. I just needed to be myself.

* * *

_Unfortunately, I will be extremely busy these next few days/weekends. If I do not update by Tuesday 10/7, I probably will not until next week. I'm sorry!! It makes me sad too. :(_

_For a hint on what I'll be busy with, see my icon on my profile. (winks) _


	4. Faith

Hi everyone: I am pleased to inform you that I have managed to snag those few minutes in the morning in order to get this posted! I will apologize for any grammar errors – again, I did not proofread this as thoroughly as I would have liked on account of wanting to get it out here.

Special thanks to all of my reviewers – this chapter would not be here without your support! I'm sorry that it's so short, but I figured that this would be better than posting a very long one sometime next week...correct me if I'm wrong about that...

* * *

**Chapter Four:**

_The weeks after the chess club seemed to pass in a blur for me – a drastic change from the first month since we'd gotten back from the wardrobe, which had seemed to drag on endlessly. I wasn't one hundred percent sure what the difference was, but my subconscious told me that it was Peter who had suddenly brightened my life._

_The change in him was at once startling and amazing and wonderfully freeing; he seemed to have had, in true Peter style, an epiphany overnight. It was if the chess club had woken something inside of him…something that had lain dormant ever since we left Narnia. Now, more than ever, I saw the High King shining through his schoolboy façade. _

_His presence lifted my spirits in a way that could not be rivaled by anyone else; not by Lucy, Susan, or my parents. Peter was my rock, my foundation – which was something that I had known in Narnia, of course. However, I had not realized the true depth of his place in my life until he had disappeared from it – however briefly – after the wardrobe._

_It was not an experience I was intending to have repeated. Luckily for both us, it didn't look like it was going to, and I did intend to keep it that way. _

_The other bright spot in my life was, surprisingly, John. I realized the day after the chess club that he was in our gym class, a fact that I had missed on the first day of school. We weren't the best of friends – not that anyone could be closer to me than my brother – but to me his change was as obvious and awe-inspiring as Peter's was. _

_I still did not know how I had so suddenly realized exactly what I had needed to say to him that day after our chess match. It was as if I had had an epiphany; I had just known, without a shadow of doubt, that there was one thing that he needed to hear, and I had not hesitated. I just told him._

_What John had needed was faith in himself; much like I had needed faith in myself after I had realized my terrible mistake with the White Witch. I have no doubt in my mind that if Peter had not shown me his forgiveness and his faith in me, I would have sunk right into a bottomless pit of depression and self-loathing. _

_Maybe that's why I had known what to say to John. I had recognized the look in his eyes all to well. He had felt that he was a failure; not to a country or to his siblings, but rather that he was a failure to himself, and – I think – the chess club. _

_I think that I wasn't quite seeing John when I looked up at him after I took his king. I think that, for an instant, I saw myself after being rescued from Jadis. Also, I think I had experienced, however briefly, what Peter must have felt when I was returned to him and the girls. _

_It was not an unfamiliar feeling – on the contrary, I had felt it more times than I wanted to count during Narnia. It was just that…I had forgotten it. It was amazing how in the time of four weeks I was able to forget what had been such a major part of my life. _

_My purpose; my never-ending quest for justice, the love for my subjects, my siblings, and my country…all it took was one glance into John's eyes to revive it all._

* * *

Peter and I were sitting on a bench outside the building that contained my years' dorm rooms, our books spread out in front of us and a cool breeze playing across our faces. I was half-heartedly completing a rather "complicated" math problem for our accursed math teacher. He had decided – after two weeks of flawless homework from the Pevensie brothers – that we should be able to do extra, and as a result we were sitting outside on a perfectly good Saturday morning trying to finish said extra homework.

"When do you think he's going to give up trying to find a problem that we need help with?" I asked, taking a break to draw random pictures on the margin of my paper. Beside me, Peter put down his pencil and stretched, laughing quietly.

"Probably when he succeeds, Ed," he said, giving me a little nudge and causing a long line to appear across my paper. "Whoops. Sorry." I gave him a mock-glare and started to erase the line.

"Maybe we should just screw up on purpose, then," I suggested, starting to draw a second picture. "Then we wouldn't be stuck here doing something that we've been able to do since we were…um…" I frowned, trying to find the right age. It was so confusing to have lived two lives.

"Let's just say we've been able to do it for a lifetime," Peter said, bending back over his paper and starting on another problem.

"If only they could understand how _true_ that is," I groaned, setting my pencil down and gazing idly at the trees…how I so longed to see them leap to life and greet me, smiling and spinning about in their enchanting and mystical way. I sighed and looked down at my math paper with disgust – then paused and examined my drawings closer.

Without knowing it, I had sketched a rough impression of my royal banner; the one that had flown above the western tower at Cair Paravel. Next to it was a picture of a lion.

I stared at it, the dormant emotions I had nearly forgotten about leaping to life inside me.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked, looking up, puzzled; he had sensed that something was off about me. He looked over my shoulder and caught sight of the doodle on the edge of my page. I heard him suck in a sharp breath. I wasn't sure how long we sat there, staring at the tiny lion; it might have been a few moments, or a few minutes, or possibly several hours. Time had seemed to stop for us, just like it always did when we –

"Hi, Edmund. Hi, Peter." A tentative voice jolted me out my wild thoughts. I started back to awareness, disoriented, and I'm afraid to say that it took me a few moments of blinking stupidly at the boy before me before I was able to manage anything coherent.

"Oh! Hi, John," I stuttered, frantically pulling myself together. It was a good thing that I had had so much practice with this in court. I gave him a half-sincere, half-court smile, and I knew that I had succeeded in looking pleased to see him when he grinned broadly back at me. "How's it going? Did you finish your homework already?" I asked the first thing that popped into my head.

"No," he laughed. "I'm going to do that now. I was talking to…"

I didn't quite hear what he said next, and I'm not sure how we ended the conversation. I hadn't taken in a word he'd said – I was too busy marveling at the change in him as well as trying to keep my façade firmly in place.

When John left, I slumped back against the bench and rubbed my eyes.

"Whew. I'd forgotten just how nerve-racking it is to keep your cover like that," I said ruefully, watching as John walked bouncily towards the dorm rooms. I felt a twinge of regret. "I wish I'd heard what he was so happy about."

Peter didn't answer. He was leaning against the back of the bench, his head tilted back to look at the sky. I frowned.

"You okay?" I asked softly. He let out a sigh and glanced at me before looking back up at the clouds.

"What do you miss the most about Narnia?" he asked after a moment. I bit my lip. There was so much that I missed…being with my sisters, diplomatic missions, training with Oreius, talking with the dwarves, dancing with the dryads, my history lessons…oh, and being a king in general. It was a very hard job, and there were many unpleasant aspects to it – such as fighting in battle – but that didn't mean I didn't like it. I guess I hadn't truly realized what my place in Narnia had meant to me until I'd been thrown back here.

In Narnia, I could make a difference – I could still make a difference here, but it was on a different scale. In Narnia, the people listened to me and seriously considered my words. Here, I was lucky if I got anyone older than me to give my views a second thought.

But there was one part of Narnia that I missed more than anything. There was one part of Narnia that outshone everything else by such a wide margin that I had nearly missed it.

"Aslan," I said quietly.

Beside me, Peter shivered at hearing the name spoken out loud, and I had a similar reaction. Once, His name had inspired terror inside of me. Now, it inspired a sense of awe, wonder and joy so great that it was the only thing that could rival what I felt when in the High King's presence. Said High King nodded wordlessly.

"Aslan," he whispered in agreement.

Together we sat, looking at the tiny drawing of the Lion. I had realized that we would never be truly happy in England, but it occurred to me that I had just discovered the one thing that I really would long for and miss the most…seeing Him and wrapping my arms around His neck to hug Him.

"Do you think He can still hear us, even though we're in England?" I wondered out loud, half-hoping for, half dreading the answer.

Peter was quiet for a moment.

"Based on what you know of Aslan, what do you think?" he asked softly. I let my mind flash through all my memories of the great Lion.

The first was our talk after I had been rescued from Jadis. I had been terrified and ashamed and ready to crawl into a corner and disappear. All it had taken was a few well-spoken words and a warm, understanding smile to give me the courage to face Peter and my sisters.

I remembered when he'd chosen us as Kings and Queens. I could see Lucy and Susan as Queens without hesitation. I could even see Peter – as young, scared, and inexperienced as he was at the time – becoming a truly magnificent king. Me, on the other hand…

I was a traitor; a disgrace to my family, myself, and my soon-to-be country.

Aslan had disagreed. He had seen _me_ – the real me, the one that had been hiding beneath the façade of anger and fear. As a result, _I_ had seen the real me. Because of Him, I had been able to see what I could be – and what I eventually became…King Edmund the Just. Aslan had died for me before I had even come to that realization, because He had faith in me.

And I, in turn, had faith in Him.

I looked at Peter and answered without another second's hesitation.

"Yes."

He nodded, clearly pleased, and tilted his head back to the clouds again.

"It doesn't stop me from missing him, of course," he said, squinting against the faint light of the partially-blocked sun, "But somehow I get the feeling that we wouldn't be here if we weren't meant to be. He must have something in mind for us, and whether or not we're able to understand it is beside the point. We have to trust Him, Ed. We've got nothing left."

I had little to add to his reasoning, and allowed myself to smile faintly.

"Nothing except each other, you mean," I corrected. He paused and then grinned, turning to look at me with those startlingly deep eyes of his.

"You're right again, King Edmund," he laughed. "We still have each other." I lightly whacked him on the arm, knowing that he understood.

"And personally, my liege, I think that's all we need to get through this."

* * *

_I will readily admit that this did not quite turn out the way I wanted it to. It appears the characters have run away on me…again! (They did this in the last chapter as well...I guess that means I'm honoring their characters by not forcing them into anything?!) Who said that authors write their stories? I think it's the other way around._

_Oh well. Tell me what you think, because I definitely was not planning on this chapter. It sort of happened. Next time I hope to bring in the fencing club…(winks) Update may (or may not!) be for a while…sorry! :(_


	5. Brother to Brother

_Wow. This took such a long time to get out…I apologize for the unexpected delay! I had a "severly annoying case of writer's block," and I'm afraid I had to wait for my muse to visit me again before I was able to finish the chapter. As compensation though, it's longer than usual and I'm quite proud of it. It wrote itself…I just played scribe, here._

_Special thanks to Elecktrum, Gwenneth, and Cirolane. Shafelm belongs to Elecktrum and the fencing club idea was inspired by Cirolane. Gwenneth has been outstanding with her encouragement, and the whole fencing-linearly-as-opposed-to-not idea comes from her story, _To War, _which, by the way, is brilliant. _

_Also, if any of you are looking for something to do, I have a oneshot up now, _Song, _and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for reading!_

* * *

**Chapter Five:**

My classes had become a sort of game for me. They were like reviews of everything I had learned in Narnia, only they were much less interesting here. Edmund and I purposely messed up assignments on occasion, knowing that if we did everything perfectly we would move up to the next class, and we would be able to pass the upper classes with ease and eventually graduate by the end of the year.

And that would raise some rather complicated questions from our mother.

So we turned them into games. Which one of us could solve the math problem the fastest? Which one of us could diagram a sentence the quickest? We did our homework together in my dorm room, where no one could bother us and marvel at our knowledge.

The only class that we actually had to take like the rest of our peers was gym. The sports and exercises done in England were very different from what we had grown up doing in Narnia. All our training with Oreius had put us into very good shape, but that was only when we were older, and it applied mostly to sword technique. Our current bodies were weaker and less-coordinated, and Edmund and I set ourselves to the task of reshaping them into the ones that we were used to.

The Monday after we had sat outside thinking about Aslan turned out to be a good day for both of us. Gym was our very last class of the day, and it was by far the most enjoyable because it wasn't boring and John was there with us. I still could not wrap my mind around his amazing change from the beast he had been when we'd first met him. Although, when I thought back on it, he really wasn't such a beast at all…just an insecure boy looking for a place in society.

He bounced into the locker room before anyone else arrived, looking extremely excited about something.

"Edmund! Peter!" he exclaimed, tossing his book bag into the corner and rocking up on the balls of his feet, "I just had a great idea for the chess club!"

I turned in surprise, still a bit shocked at his enthusiasm. Edmund managed to look a _bit _more diplomatic, and smiled encouragingly at John, gesturing for him to continue.

"So I was thinking that we really need to teach the members how to strategize more," he said as he began to twirl the dial on his lock. "I think that the best way for them to learn is from each other. So what do you think would happen if we all had a chess match together?"

"You mean split everyone into two groups, and then alternate players on each turn while the others watch?" Edmund asked, looking thoughtful. John nodded vigorously.

"Exactly. Don't you think they could learn a lot? Even we could learn something, and we could play, too."

I grinned in spite of myself. His enthusiasm was contagious…and his ideas weren't bad, either. He was starting to channel Edmund, and it was slightly scary. Still, I would have to remember that tactic for – I cut the thought off abruptly, amazed at myself. I couldn't help but slip back into High King mode every now in then. It was like it was ingrained into my head.

"Peter? Hello!" Edmund was waving a hand in front of my face. I blinked and looked around, realizing that John was staring at me eagerly. Edmund glared at me and I quickly gathered myself.

"I think that it's a brilliant idea, John," I said as sincerely as I could. "And you're definitely right about the fact that we could all learn something from each other."

The younger boy grinned and turned back to his open lock, looking quite pleased with himself. Edmund rolled his eyes at me and mouthed, _"Nice save." _I shrugged sheepishly and shot him one of my "well-we-can't-all-be-diplomats-like-YOU-are" looks, and he rolled his eyes again.

* * *

"All right, listen up! Mr. Cliff and Mr. Vanez, will you _please_ pay attention?"

I sighed quietly to myself and glanced at the clock. We had wasted five minutes of gym class already because a group of the boys had been goofing around. They were trying to run up the wall sideways – I couldn't fathom as to _why_ – and were also making a ton of noise. It was quite obvious to Edmund, the teacher, and me that the behavior was as pointless as it was disruptive…although I wasn't quite sure whether or not our teacher realized he wasn't the only one of that opinion. It was rather disconcerting to realize how much more mature we were compared to our classmates.

The boys eventually calmed down enough to join our gym teacher by the door to the storage room. He shot them a warning glare and then turned to the rest of the class.

"Now that we have all decided to act our age, I have a little announcement to make," he began, gesturing towards the sports bulletin board behind him. "This year we are going to be starting a fencing club…"

Edmund and I turned to each other in shock. A fencing club…at _school? _The excitement in my brother's eyes was very pronounced, but I was a bit more confused. How would fencing for sport compare to fighting for our country and our lives? What would it be like to train somewhere other than Cair Paravel? I stared back at Edmund uncertainly.

"…if the team is good enough, we may participate in one of the local competitions. The instructor will be Mr. Heynes, who used to fence when he was…"

I watched Edmund's face change from excitement to disbelief to disgust, and was fairly certain that my own expressions matched his. Mr. Heynes? It would be bizarre enough to learn to wield a sword from someone other than Orieus….never mind that accursed math teacher!

"So," the gym teacher said loudly, snapping me back to awareness. He waited for a moment while the murmurs died down. "Today I am going to teach you the basics of fencing. This will be a way for you to get yourselves oriented, and also for you to decide whether or not you want to join the team. I realize that it is a relatively stereotyped sport, and I want you to be sure that you know what you're getting into before you actually sign up."

I was relieved. I didn't want to dive into this blindly.

"First, I am going to get you acquainted with fencing gear," the teacher began, leading us over to a rack filled with an odd-looking collection of…helmets? Masks? I wasn't quite sure what they were. "This is the headgear that you will need to wear while you are in combat – " Edmund looked a little amused by the phrasing of that. It was clear to me that calling the round, mesh-covered lumps "_headgear"_ was a bit much for him. Personally, I didn't think "_combat"_ really fit into the idea of this type of fencing, but….

" – and these are the fencing outfits that are usually worn in practice. There are different ones that will be used if the team makes it to competition, but none of you have to worry about these today. We'll just be practicing in our gym clothes, since we probably won't get around to actually doing anything to each other yet." The gym teacher was still reciting his little speech, unaware that half the class was muttering excitedly and not really paying attention.

I eyed the rack of costumes – I mean, fencing outfits – in some trepidation. They were bulky, padded things that looked like they would be cumbersome and annoying while attempting to fight with a sword. I supposed that they couldn't be much worse than our armor…but then again, these outfits were made in England, and I had long ago realized that the clothes in England were much less comfortable than the ones in Narnia.

Edmund eyed the outfits and grimaced. I stifled a laugh, and he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly at me. We apparently missed something of our teacher's lecture during our little exchange, because when I looked it up it was to find that we were being handed –

"_What_ in the name of…um, _lions_…is this supposed to be?" Edmund demanded, holding the thing up gingerly with his thumb and forefinger and looking at it in askance. I was barely able to contain my laughter.

"A sword, good brother," I choked. Edmund's eyes widened.

"A – _what?_"

I had to admit that it was one of the…_strangest…_swords I had ever seen. It had a wide, plain hilt with a rounded crossguard, like a bowl. Protruding from the center of the bowl (looking strangely out of proportion) was the scariest excuse for a blade that I had ever laid eyes on. It looked like a thin, flimsy rod of metal that I knew I could have easily – if only accidentally – snapped in my days as High King.

Edmund was staring at it in shock, attempting vainly to fathom how (in the name of _lions_) we were supposed to fight with it. I stifled another laugh and tuned into what our teacher was saying, since I knew that my brother would not be listening for a while.

"I need you all to partner up with someone that you can work with," the teacher said. He glared at the corner where some of the boys from earlier were standing. "Mr. Cliff, please come here and partner with Mr. Wydel…"

I looked over at John, who seemed surprised and a little reluctant about being chosen to work with the class clown, and to boost his confidence I gave him an encouraging smile and waved him off towards "Mr. Cliff." Then I nudged Edmund with my elbow.

"Ed? Hello! We're starting."

"Peter?" my brother asked fearfully, seeming to shake himself out of his trance, "This is crazy. There is _no way _that this…thing…will work in combat. No way."

"Ed." I sighed, lowered my voice, and glanced around to make sure no one could overhear us. "This isn't combat. This is a sport, and it's not going to be anything like what we're used to. Fencing in England is a game, not a battle. We're not fighting for our lives." Edmund seemed to wilt slightly.

"I know," he mumbled. "I guess I just couldn't help but get excited…I can't control it. I _miss_ training everyday, and I miss Shafelm." He cast the sword in his hand an appalled glance. "I guess that seeing this…all right, sword…makes it harder. I'm sorry."

I stared at him. Shafelm had been his sword, not the flimsy thing he was now holding. Just like Rhindon had been mine.

"You're sorry? Whatever for, Ed?"

He shrugged, looking a little perplexed at the question.

"Well…oh, I don't know. I just don't like slipping back into King Edmund mode every five minutes," he attempted to explain, unconsciously shifting his blade from one hand to the other. It was a move that was very familiar to me, and for a moment I saw him standing in our battle tent, dressed in full armor and holding Shafelm, not the fencing blade. I blinked and the image was gone. "I mean," Edmund was continuing, "It's not that I don't miss Narnia, or being a king…I just hate having to repress my real self all the time. It's so much easier if I can focus on school and remember Narnia when I'm safely tucked away and doing my homework. You following me?"

I nodded, still slightly disoriented from my brief flashback.

"I understand completely," I assured him, nodding my head towards his sword, which he was now unconsciously switching back and forth between his hands with alarming speed. "For instance, your little move with the blade there. It reminds me of how you always get anxious _before _we ride out to battle, whereas I get anxious after it's already happened."

Edmund looked down at his hands in surprise. Then he laughed.

"I always did have a bad habit with that," he said ruefully, switching his blade once more before holding it still. "Orieus used to say that someday I'd accidentally take my foot out, and then I'd finally learn not to fiddle with it."

"Pevensie and – um – Pevensie! Are you two going to pay attention, or would you like to leave class?"

I started and looked around guiltily. Edmund and I had been so caught up in our memories that we hadn't noticed that the class had moved to the center of the gym. I shoved down a sudden mental image of Orieus, ducked my head, and hurried over, murmuring my apologies. Beside me, I heard Edmund sigh quietly in annoyance and longing. This was what he had meant about getting caught up in Narnia at the wrong times. However pleasant it was, it could be a frighteningly effective distraction. There was no way that I would have known the class had moved.

"Now that everyone has so kindly decided to pay attention," the teacher began in exasperation, "I am going to first teach you how to hold the blade. Everyone line up across from your partner and hold it out with your writing hand…"

I couldn't help but have a brief flashback to my very first lesson with Orieus. It had been at the camp at Beruna, before Edmund had been rescued, and Aslan had instructed the centaur general to start to teach me how to use a blade. Of course, the lesson had been about forty-five minutes and crammed between Orieus' other duties, but it had been nerve-racking and rather frightening. I do not believe that I'd ever realized just how _big _centaurs were until that point.

_Flashback_

_"Majesty?" a slightly nervous voice asked, and I jumped and turned automatically, not realizing right away that the messenger faun was for me. Why were the Narnians calling me "majesty?" I was not a King, nor a Prince, nor anything else remotely related to royalty in any way, shape, or form. I was barely a teenager, for goodness's sake. What could Aslan possibly see in me?_

_"Y-yes?" I stuttered, not knowing how to address him. The little faun smiled lightly at me and gave a small bow._

_"General Orieus will meet you at the training grounds in five minutes. He asks that you bring your sword and your shield and that you come without your sisters."_

_I stared at him in slight panic. I didn't even know how to _hold _my sword and shield, much less fight or spar with them. And how on earth could I be sure that Lucy and Susan would be safe while I was…_training…_with the _general_? _

_"I – I'll be there. Thank you," I managed, and the faun smiled sympathetically at me before trotting off to deliver my response to Orieus. Orieus! I'd only met him once…no, twice?...and that had only been twenty-four hours ago. It was hardly any time at all, but it was enough for me to get the impression that Orieus was a warrior. A very _good _warrior._

_And what was I? Peter Pevensie, schoolboy and war refugee from Finchley? Oh, Aslan help me._

_"Peter?"_

_I jumped again, whipped back to the direction I'd been facing before, yelped, and took a hasty step back. I'd just come face-to-face with Susan. She stared at me worriedly. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You look like you've just seen a ghost!" _

_Oh, great. Was it that obvious?_

_"I'm fine," I said in what I hoped was an offhand manner. I vaguely waved my arm around behind me. "I think there are some dwarves who want to fit you and Lucy for armor, just in case. You should probably go investigate." At least I think it was something like that. It was so hard to keep track of everything! The dwarves wanted me for armor over here, the smiths wanted me to inspect their swords over there, a faun wanted to meet me somewhere near the dwarves, a centaur wanted to offer me advice, and – _

_"Peter, look at me." _

_I blinked and found myself staring into the concerned eyes of my sister. _

_"Yes?" I asked, trying to sound like I was in control of my wild emotions. Susan gave me a pointed look and said,_

_"Go take your lesson with Orieus. We're going to talk after that." _

_How had she known?_

_End Flashback_

"Peter?" Edmund hissed, elbowing me in the ribs and jolting me back to awareness, "Pay attention!"

I blinked, cast him a sheepish glance, and tuned in to what our teacher was saying. Edmund rolled his eyes at me for the third time.

Fencing in England was scarily different from fencing in Narnia; for one thing, it was all done on a line. It wasn't something that I had given much thought to before, but I realized now that Edmund and I were used to pivoting and circling around our opponents. The change was going to be more than a little disconcerting.

We stood across from each other, in between two parallel pieces of tape that marked our fencing range. The space that we were standing in seemed impossibly narrow, and we looked at each other with raised eyebrows and uncertain glances. How on earth could anyone be expected to fight like this? I thought about what Orieus might have said if he had been with us, and immediately had to stifle a laugh.

The next moment, though, I sobered, because the thought of Orieus caused my brain to pick up on the train of thought that I had dropped…

_Flashback_

_"Your Majesty? Are you all right?"_

_I looked up in surprise from where I had been attempting to fix – yet _again_ – my grip on Rhindon. Orieus was looking at me in concern, reminding me so much of Susan that for a moment I was rendered speechless._

_"What?" I asked stupidly. Orieus frowned slightly._

_"Is everything all right?" he repeated. "You seem very distracted. I realize that this is the first time you've ever held a sword, but this is the seventh time I've had to go over the grip with you. If you want to be able to wield Rhindon by the time you have to defend yourself, you are going to have to focus much harder, Son of Adam." _

_I nodded, chastised, and inwardly winced. I _was_ trying! I really was. It was just…I hadn't the faintest clue what I was supposed to be doing. I'd never even seen a sword in my life until Father Christmas had handed one to me, and it didn't feel right. I didn't feel like I was meant to be holding this beautiful but deadly object. It didn't fit Peter Pevensie. I didn't understand._

_For the seventh time, I gripped the hilt and swung Rhindon above my head, trying once again to master the basic move. I started to bring it down upon Orieus's practice shield, and immediately I knew that everything was wrong. I was off balance, and the sword seemed cumbersome in my grip – not at all like the extension of my arm that Orieus had said it was supposed to feel like. _

_The blade landed awkwardly on the shield with an off-sounding clang, and I blinked back tears of frustration. Why couldn't I get it right? What was wrong with me?_

_Orieus gently pried Rhindon out of my defeated grip and set it aside. Then he put his hands on my shoulders, bent down so that he was level with me, and looked at me long and hard. It wasn't menacing, just puzzled. I got the feeling that he was trying to figure out what was wrong._

_"There is something bothering you." It was a statement, not a question. I nodded wordlessly. There was so much wrong with my life at the moment…everything I had ever known had been turned upside down on me in barely a week. First we'd left Mother for the countryside, then I had suddenly been in charge of my siblings – something that I had failed _miserably_ at – then Lucy had discovered Narnia, then animals could talk and witches were real and Lions were kings, and we had been labeled the children of a prophecy, and Edmund…_

_I swallowed with difficulty._

_"I'm not sure what, though," I muttered. Orieus nodded absently, still scrutinizing me carefully. He frowned slightly._

_"Your Majesty, have you ever considered – "_

_But he never got to finish his sentence, because the answer had suddenly hit me like a blow to the head._

_"_That's_ the problem!" I half-yelled, burying my face in my hands and clutching my hair, "All of this 'your majesty' stuff! I'm not a king! I'm a schoolboy from…from…well, you wouldn't know anyway. I haven't got a clue what I'm doing, and everything I have done so far I've screwed up miserably. My family is a complete mess, Edmund's betrayed us for that infernal witch, and…and…"_

_I choked and swallowed roughly._

_"It's all my fault," I said in a strangled voice, afraid to look up while I confessed. "I was too hard on him. I was mad at him for teasing Lucy, and I just…I've been awful to him from the start, ever since he went to that school and made friends with those bullies I've been awful to him, I didn't like was he was doing and instead of helping him, I…"_

_By that time I was rambling, and as soon as I realized this I shut my mouth abruptly, ashamed. What was Orieus going to think of me now? Come to think of it, what would Aslan say? There was no way that he'd want someone like me as King…I was too rash, too immature. I wasn't worthy._

_"Peter." _

_My head shot up in astonishment at hearing my name coming from the centaur's mouth. Orieus was looking at me with a mixture of understanding, sympathy, and pity._

_"I think that you've had enough for today. We will continue our lesson later." He squeezed my shoulder gently; a reassurance. "We_ will_ get your brother back. You have my word."_

_End Flashback_

I pushed back the memories of my first ever fencing lesson. This one was going to be different, because this time, I had Edmund with me.

The teacher was demonstrating how to execute a basic attack and a basic block. The movements were sharp and quick, which was a little like broadsword fighting, but not quite. With a broadsword the movements were bigger, more obvious, and easier to identify. It looked like this type of fencing was going to be a bit more discreet.

It took a while for everyone to get the general idea, but once we had it we were asked to practice on each other. I looked at Edmund and grinned mischievously at him. He grimaced good-naturedly at me and immediately lunged, attempting to duplicate the attack move we had just been taught. I unconsciously sidestepped and went right out-of-bounds.

"Oh." I stared in confusion at the little piece of tape of the floor, and then sighed in annoyance with myself. "Apparently it's easier to slip back into old habits than I thought," I said to Edmund ruefully. He smiled understandingly.

"I think that you either have to deflect or attack at this point," he said as I stepped back into our fencing range. "There's no dodging option. Here, you try the attack and I'll see if I can get the parry right."

It was almost like old times. Edmund and I helped each other, and within ten minutes we were comfortably attacking and blocking each other, even though we were still moving a bit awkwardly with the lighter blade. Edmund proved to be a bit better at the attack, whereas I ended up being better at the blocking. We were opposites of each other, and yet we moved with the same sort of grace and the basics of our styles were nearly identical.

I tried the attack and was very nearly successful. Edmund had to double-check himself in order to keep from dodging, and I would have scored a hit if it weren't for the fact that his reflexes were so _fast._ Apparently we hadn't left as much of that in Narnia as we thought we had.

Someone behind me started clapping, and I turned in surprise. Our teacher was standing behind us, looking very impressed.

"That was incredibly good for a first try," he said as the class began to break up and put the fencing gear away, "It wasn't perfect, but I think that with practice it will be pretty darn close. Have either of you fenced before?"

I shot Edmund a brief warning glance.

"We used to do a bit of fighting with broadswords," I told him, "It was when we were younger, mostly, and it was more like a game. We weren't bad, though."

"I see." The teacher looked deep in thought. "Well, I'll have to tell Mr. Heynes. You two would be excellent on the fencing team. Do think about it, will you?"

Edmund and I stared at each other as he walked away. We'd forgotten that our accursed math teacher was going to be our coach.

"For the love Aslan," Edmund complained as we walked back to the locker rooms, a fair ways behind the rest of the class, "Why does it have to be _him?_"

I laughed.

"It's our own fault, Ed," I teased. "You know that it's just our luck, right?"

He groaned.

"Right."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later we emerged from the locker rooms together. We were the last ones out, and we had been released from our classes nearly twenty minutes ago. Hardly anyone was around at this time because they were either wandering around the dorms or already at sports practice. We walked leisurely around the back way, enjoying the crisp autumn air that would soon turn into the harsh bite of winter. I glanced at the trees lining the walkway with only part-admiration. Their colored leaves just didn't compare to the Narnian tree spirits.

Two long, sturdy branches lay forgotten on the ground underneath one of the bigger trees. I stopped and picked them up, testing their strength. Edmund looked at me in confusion as I dumped my book bag on the ground.

"What are you doing?" he asked, perplexed.

I glanced up and down the walkway. Hardly anyone came by at this time, and the sports practices wouldn't be out for another hour at the very least. It was unlikely that anyone would intrude on us.

I held one of the sticks out to him wordlessly. My mind was already far, far away.

_Flashback_

_"Edmund?" _

_I poked my head cautiously into our tent, looking around for my younger brother. He was sitting on his hammock, just about done getting dressed by the look of it. He looked at me with a mixture of hope and trepidation. I knew that he still thought I was going to be very, very angry with him. But to the surprise of both us, I wasn't. _

_Not one little bit._

_Every time I looked at him I felt a small, golden bubble of warmth form inside of my chest. I was so _happy_ to have him back. Oh, he wasn't unharmed…he sported bruises and cuts that went far deeper than just his flesh, and I knew that it would be a bit of a road to a full recovery, but he was _here._ He was with me, and for once we weren't fighting over every little thing. _

_We were…brothers._

_"Come down to the training field with me. I can teach you some of the moves I learned from Orieus yesterday," I said, smiling at him and gesturing to a sword and shield I was carrying with me. I had consulted Orieus, and he had decided that these were probably going to work the best for him. _

_Edmund's face lit up with a smile, and in one bound he was out of the tent, eager to hold the sword and shield._

_We were able to learn so much that day, and I knew that it was because we were learning together. Alone, I felt like a lost schoolboy holding something that would never suit me. With Edmund, I felt a shadow of what we would grow up to be…Kings of Narnia. _

_End Flashback_

Edmund looked at the stick I was holding out to him, paused, and then deposited his book bag next to mine. He took the stick from me, and for a moment we just stood there, staring at each other, nervous.

Then he lunged forward in one sudden movement, and I instinctively swept around him and blocked. In that moment, everything faded away, and instead of a deserted walkway at our boarding school, I saw the training grounds at Cair Paravel. Orieus was there, smiling at us and shouting words of encouragement and advice.

And for the next twenty minutes we surrendered ourselves to Narnia.

* * *

_Whew. That was really hard for me to write for some reason. Please tell me what you think…and let me know if there are any grammar errors or weird phrasings. Also, I'm open to ideas for future chapters, as I haven't got a clue as to what I should do with them next. _

_Let me know what you think! Thank you so much! _


	6. From the Outside

_Hi everybody! I was absolutely staggered by the response to chapter five. Thank you so much for your reviews! Many of you were asking for a different POV, so here it is! I didn't actually say which character this is…although I bet many of you can guess. ;) It's a bit shorter than usual, but there's a lot of information thrown in, so I thought that might be best._

_Enjoy!

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_

**From the Outside**

I slipped out of my dorm room, thankful that my roommate hadn't come in while I was changing out of my school uniform. His name was Kyle and he was very nice, but he could never stop _talking. _I had realized long ago that he really must know everything, because it seemed like every single subject I brought up he was able to jabber on for hours about.

I could say this with authority, since I had actually looked up several random and absolutely bewildering topics in an encyclopedia, and when I had tested them on him he had taken off and I hadn't gotten to sleep until well past midnight.

I had tried to avoid him ever since then.

The autumn sun was just peeking out behind a few scattered clouds as I stepped out of the dorm building. I smiled up at it, the sight lifting my already high spirits. Today had been a particularly good day for me. I had received one hundred percent on my history test, which was a complete shock. I had never gotten a good score on history before, even though it was one of the most interesting subjects I had to take. Maybe it was because this time I had actually studied.

My thoughts took a sudden downward turn. The reason _why _I hadn't studied so hard before was because I had been…busy…hanging out with –

No.

I pushed the thought out of my head and resolutely steered my feet towards the gymnasium. Aden and his gang were not – _not, not, not _– my friends anymore. Well, they hadn't been very nice in the first place either, I supposed.

I frowned as I continued to walk automatically towards my favorite homework spot, ignoring the crisp scent of autumn as it brushed across my face and sent a few leaves flying into my hair. Aden _had_ been my friend…hadn't he? He had _said _that he was my friend. And he'd also said that he was helping to keep me safe by having me help him beat up some of the other kids on campus. He _had _said that they were threats.

So he had been my friend. Or at least, I thought so.

I sighed in frustration, annoyed with the downward turn my mood had taken. And I had been having such a good day, too. The problem with Aden and me was that I had no idea what a friend was _supposed _to be, so I couldn't ever tell if he ever was a friend, if he still was, or if he should be my friend.

He was definitely…different….from my newest acquaintance, Edmund Pevensie. In fact, Edmund was the one who had opened my eyes to the rest of my life. I hadn't realized just how dependent I had become on Aden until Peter Pevensie and his absolutely perfect younger brother had barged into my carefully controlled world and opened my mind to…well, a lot of things.

For instance, if they had been Aden I would have been beaten up after their win of the chess match. I had quietly despaired once I'd realized that there was no chance for me to get my king to safety. Not only would Edmund and Peter beat me up and take control of the Chess Club, but Aden would beat me up too for letting my control slip.

And to my intense surprise, Edmund hadn't done one single thing to me. Not one.

Instead, he'd asked me to _stay._ He'd actually been eager to learn from me and teach me some of what he knew. He'd _wanted_ my help.

I guess I'd always thought that Aden wanted my help and my input, too, but the way Edmund and Peter did it made Aden's way seem…fake. Almost as if he was a false friend.

_False. _Not for the first time, I rolled the alien word around in my brain. Somehow it just seemed to _fit. _Almost as if it was meant to be in the same sentence and thought as Aden. And Edmund….I cast my mind about for a word that would fit him, but I couldn't find one. All I could find was the feeling of surprise and wonder and incredulous joy that I had felt after the Chess Club meeting where he had invited me into the world of…of…

Again, I drew a blank. I just couldn't find a word that fit Edmund Pevensie. But I did know that I was very close to idolizing him. He was so…serene? No, that didn't fit quite right, but it did describe him. Serene and solemn, and yet he wasn't absolutely boring. My dad was serene and solemn, too, but the way _he _went about carrying himself just made him seem distant and cold.

Not so with Edmund. He was different. He had an air of…of _something _about him that I had rarely seen in anyone. His brother had it, too. They were both like rocks, or those foundations that held up the buildings on the campus. They were…_solid._

And they had opened my eyes to the world around me. Before, I had only been able to focus on Aden, Aden, Aden. Aden wanted me to do that, Aden needed to talk to me, Aden had instructed me to traumatize the Chess Club. For the first time, I had realized that there was moreto life than doing what _Aden_ wanted.

I could do things that _I_ wanted. Or things that Edmund wanted. Or even the things that my teachers wanted. I wasn't a slave to anyone.

A leaf flew into my eyes, and I swatted it away, looking about in surprise. My feet had carried me right to the path that led to my favorite homework spot, a seldom-visited bench located on a long, scenic walkway that went from the gym to the dorm rooms. I shifted my heavy book bag off of my now-bloodless right shoulder, grimacing as the blood rushed back into it at once. I really needed to get into the habit of switching shoulders regularly.

_Wham._

A sudden noise caused me to jump in shock. _Swish._ _Wham, wham, wham. _The noises came in quick succession, an odd sound that reminded me of when my little sister had "borrowed" my mum's wooden spoons and started banging them together because they had been left out. The only difference was that there were no wooden spoons lying around outside, and the way the noises fell together made them seem much more sophisticated than a five-year-old's attempts to make music.

_Wham, swish, swish, wham._

I turned the corner curiously and stopped dead in my tracks.

"Whoa." I stood stock-still, gaping openly at the amazing spectacle before me.

Two men were blocking my path, whirling and weaving about each other in such complicated and quick patterns that for a moment I had to just stare at them in complete awe. A series of _whams_ alerted me to the sturdy branches they were holding – no, they weren't simply holding them, were they? – and using against each other like swords.

Wielding. That was the word.

One was a little taller than the other, and they were opposites and yet the same in nearly every way. The smaller one was dark-haired, pale, and stockier. He moved with directness and swift precision. His opponent was golden-haired, tanned, and longer-limbed. He, too, moved with frightening precision and directness, only his was more…graceful? Fluid? I frowned, searching through my memories of my English vocabulary book for an adjective that fit. I wasn't successful.

I watched them a little closer. They were so different, and yet…they _weren't._ I frowned, trying to find a word to describe what I was seeing. It was obvious that their styles were opposite of each other, but it was not immediately noticeable because the way they flowed from one form to the next was exactly the same. And the way they both _attacked_ their movements! Again, it was so different…but their determination and their coolness was identical.

They were the night and the day, equal in their intensity but opposite in their effect. And neither one seemed to be better than the other. They were both needed.

I gaped now at myself as I replayed the thought through my head. When had I started thinking like _that? _I didn't even know that I was _capable_ of thinking that way. I looked back at the…the – well, I didn't know what they were – and felt the same feeling of awe sweep over me. It was as if my mind could change just by _looking_ at them.

Like I was better when I was looking at them.

I turned the strange thought over in my head, knowing that it was somehow true but unable to see how. I watched the two men continue to fight, and only _then_ did it strike me that something was rather…off…about this picture.

They reminded me of – and somehow looked like – characters right out of the Legend of King Arthur. Except they were standing in the middle of a boarding school campus in England.

And _then_ it finally hit me that they were wearing uniforms.

"Edmund?" I asked incredulously. I had no idea how I knew that it was him – he was moving too fast for me to get a good look at his face – but his _presence_ was there. That serene, solemn…oh, what _was_ that word?

The two of them jumped and stopped mid-strike, turning to face me in complete surprise. And for a split second, as impossible as it was, I found myself looking into the faces of two…kings.

Royalty. That was the word. They both had an air of royalty about them.

For a moment we stared at each other.

"Where on earth did you learn all of _that__?_"

* * *

_Let me know your thoughts! I tried to make it seem a bit younger-sounding, since it was from John's POV. I'm still open to plot bunnies. :)_


	7. Caught and Covered

_I'm sorry! This is very short. I was planning on making it longer – and by all means, since I haven't updated in ages I hardly have many excuses for it being so short – but it's just the way that it turned out. As you will see by the time you get to the end of this, a much longer piece is in store for chapter 8. At least, that's what I'm planning on. Enjoy!_

* * *

It was very fortunate for me that I had had quite a lot of experience in the art of controlling facial expressions, because I don't think that I've ever needed them more. The shock of seeing John was enough to throw me for a loop, never mind the fact that half my mind was still telling me that I was in Narnia.

Peter wasn't as lucky as I. He gaped at the figure staring at us, looking so much like a typical schoolboy stumped by a question (which, I supposed, he was) that for a moment _I _was gaping at _him._ The whole time we were watched by John, whose expression, by the time we had gotten our bearings enough to notice, had rapidly changed from shock and awe to one of sheer confusion.

"Um…" Peter started lamely. I mentally cuffed him on the head in exasperation. He was _not_ meant for this diplomatic stuff, no matter how sweet or charming he could be. Although at the moment he wasn't coming across as either.

….and I supposed that I was in the same boat with him, at this point.

"Oh!" I feigned – well, half feigned – surprise, and attempted to smile warmly at John. "Hi, John. Are we interrupting your walk?"

"Uh…" He continued to stare at us, apparently speechless. I mentally groaned to myself. We must have been projecting that air of Narnia again, because he was giving us the same sort of reaction that our subjects had sometimes given us after we had done something particularly…well, magnificent or just, respectively.

"Are you joining the fencing team?" he blurted out finally, staring at us as if we'd just popped out of thin air. Or walked out of a wardrobe…

"Um, maybe," Peter shrugged, glancing at me worriedly to see if he was saying the right thing. I just stared back at him. My diplomatic training – as wonderful as it was in any other situation – hadn't exactly covered the art of concealing worlds from other worlds. "Are you?"

"I don't know," John stuttered, seeming to collect himself, "But I think that you should. Did you fence before?"

"Yes, actually," I jumped on the story Peter had told our gym teacher, attempting to fit details into place before – well, as – I explained. "When we were younger…um…our next-door neighbor taught us how to fight with broadswords…he had some wooden practice ones…and…um, well, when we were evacuated to the country we had nothing else to do, so we practiced a lot, and…yeah, the professor that lived there had a book on broadsword fighting – he had a lot of books – and so we learned some more from that…um…"

Peter stared at me as if I'd sprouted several heads. He hadn't heard me speak in stutters since before I learned diplomacy. And not only that, he'd probably never heard my impromptu story skills – they weren't very good or very convincing, so I generally kept them to myself – and no doubt he was shocked.

However, I had – for once – managed to come across as a typical schoolboy, and John fell for it easily.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, looking at me with something akin to hero-worship, "Can you teach me?"

Oh boy.

If I'd thought that Peter couldn't get any more incredulous, I was wrong. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and I was fairly certain that we were both thinking the same thing: us, imitating Oreius? No way.

"Well…" I began slowly, a thought forming in my brain and jumping right into court speech. I hastily translated it to English that John would understand. "Were _you_ considering joining the fencing team? Broadsword fighting is very different from the fencing you learned in gym class, and if you want to join the team you'd be better off learning that style first."

"There's a difference?" John asked in confusion. I had to stifle a laugh at the look on Peter's face. I felt sort of bad for him, actually. He had been yanked out of his personal Narnia and into a rather interesting situation, and was now trying vainly to understand the boy in front of us. Having been in John's shoes before, I knew exactly how he felt, but Peter was still several steps behind. It was a good thing _I _was the Just, because my poor brother simply wasn't suited to this type of thing.

And I wasn't quite suited to the things that _he_ was, so we balanced each other out very nicely. I shot him a look that plainly said "_Let me handle this," _and to my amusement he seemed relieved. If we had been in Narnia he wouldn't have had a problem with this conversation, but we weren't in Narnia, and therefore he didn't know how to act. I did because diplomacy could be applied pretty much everywhere, in court form and out. Peter was just suited to the court form, and he couldn't fathom how he was supposed to word his thoughts otherwise.

"Yes," I began, eyeing John's eager expression with a bit of trepidation. Goodness knew that he could ask a lot of questions. "For one, a broadsword is completely different from what you practiced with in gym today. Have you ever seen an illustration of…um…King Arthur's sword?" It was the first thing I thought of that came somewhat close to Narnia.

"Of course," John said, looking slightly indignant. "I love King Arthur!"

I paused, momentarily derailed. It was a very good thing, then, that he knew and suspected nothing about Narnia. I intended to keep it that way, because otherwise there would be no end to the questions. Besides, would he ever believe something like that? I shook my head and pulled myself together.

"Well, that's basically what a broadsword looks like," I told him, thinking longingly of Shafelm. It would be the only sword for me as long as I lived, regardless of where I was. John was looking at me with excitement.

"And you know how to use a broadsword, right?" he asked.

"Right," I said, thinking of all the times we'd been into battle. Peter was dragging himself back into England by now, and I could sense rather than see his amusement as it flitted across his face. He liked John, even though he didn't quite understand him.

"Do you think Mr. Heynes knows how to fight with a broadsword?" John asked, looking at us thoughtfully.

My immediate reaction was negative. Our math teacher, with a "real" broadsword? I grimaced inwardly to myself. I had seen bad technique on the battlefield before – and goodness knows that I was horrible the first time I picked up a sword – but for some reason I couldn't believe that Mr. Heynes would be good at anything besides math. I had only seen Narnians and my siblings fight with broadswords before, and goodness, our _math teacher_....!

But then, I reflected, that wasn't very fair of me. I at least had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, if he actually did fight with broadswords – and even if he wasn't very bad –the chances were that Peter and I would outclass him by a mile. It tended to happen to anyone who'd had Oreius as a teacher. And so my unexpected answer made John excited and Peter incredulous.

"I hope so."

* * *

_So, what did you think? It was a bit choppy, I thought, but…well, we all have our bad days. Any guesses on what the POV for chapter 8 is going to be? I am looking for a beta, as I am in need of encouragement, but your reviews do wonders! Literally. You have no idea how much I appreciate them! Also, if any of you are looking for updates on chapter progress, it's usually posted on my profile page. I am still open to plot bunnies! _


	8. Fencing

_(Edges sheepishly into view). Okay…it's really very obvious that I've been fighting a bit of writer's block – just look at how long it took me to update – but I think I owe all of you an apology for the delay. Life simply grabbed me and wouldn't let go, and then my muse kept running away on me (slippery little thing). :(_

_I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed this story and my other oneshots…you've all been a major source of inspiration to me, and I'm thrilled that you enjoy my attempts at writing. :) And speaking of inspiration, I owe _phoenixqueen _a HUGE thank you for all the help she's given me. She was the one responsible for rounding up my muse, and also for explaining fencing to me. Thank you so much!_

_And now…(crosses fingers)…_

* * *

Chapter 8: Fencing

**Mr. Heynes**

I glared at the stack of papers in front of me, exasperated. I was only halfway through correcting them, but based on the ones I had seen so far, the marks weren't going to improve. What on earth had I managed to teach these students? Was it the way I was teaching them, or were they just not interested in math? I frowned and thought back on my lessons…they were so clear! How could anyone not understand?

Shaking my head, I pulled the next paper towards me, glanced at the name, and then felt my mood plummet even further. Pevensie. I knew that whichever one it was would have a perfect paper. Well…nearly perfect. Lately they had been "missing" one or two problems, but I was far from convinced that they were genuine. The mistakes were much too common to be made by both of them, and a small voice in the back of my head couldn't help but wonder if they were deliberate.

I sighed in frustration. As if I needed perfect students mocking my classes.

Grumbling under my breath, I put the papers aside and rubbed my eyes, glancing briefly at my watch. I blinked and did a double-take. It had been three hours since I'd last looked at it. How was it even possible for time to fly that quickly?

Knock, knock, knock.

My musings were interrupted by a knock on my office door.

"Come in!" I said, shifting the mountain of papers aside in order to see who it was. A young man with dark hair poked his head in, looking slightly nervous. His name was Alex Sentris, and he was the new head of the athletic department. He was only a few years out of college, and I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. I remembered how disorienting the first year of my first full-time job had been; crazy, to say the least.

"Yes?" I asked, not unkindly. Alex stepped in and handed me a sheet of paper.

"These are the names and dorm rooms of the people who want to join the fencing team," he said. "If you'd like to put together a flyer for the first practice, I can distribute them within the next week."

I nodded, intrigued, as I took the paper. This fencing team was an effort of mine to brighten up my teaching experience. I enjoyed fencing and was excited at the prospect of becoming a coach.

"I'll be sure to do that," I said to Alex, setting the paper aside momentarily to wave him off. "Thank you for the help in setting this up, by the way. I'm sure that you're very busy." Alex shrugged, looking at me sheepishly.

"A bit," he admitted. I laughed and pulled the paper towards me again, signaling his dismissal.

"Well, if you ever need any help, let me know," I told him. He nodded in thanks and quietly left, leaving me to pounce on the list I'd been given.

It was better than I had been expecting. There were twelve people who had signed up, and two more who had marked that they were just "interested," and then had gone on to explain that the fencing might interfere with some of their other sports. So fourteen, if I was lucky. That was a much bigger number than what I had been hoping for.

I didn't recognize most of the names on my list. There was Aden Yates – he never did well on my math tests – two boys that were friends with him, several other people I didn't have in my classes, Ray Manson – I admired him because he, out of all my students, had improved the most so far....John Wydel had been crossed out….and…

Oh, brother.

Literally.

The Pevensies had signed up? I stared at their names in utter astonishment. Almost absentmindedly, it struck me that their handwriting was rather elegant for such young boys; but that wasn't the real mystery. Why on earth would they show any interest in fencing? From what I had seen, the two of them were quiet and rather removed from what was going on around them.

While most boys would use their free time to play games or loll about doing nothing, the Pevensie brothers preferred to read, talk, or simply spend time together. I had seen them sitting under a tree as I had passed the dorms the other day, deep in discussion about something that was apparently quite important…if the looks on their faces were anything to go by.

They mystified me. Both of them were extremely smart, and yet I didn't think that anyone would dare to call them nerds. The very idea sent an unexpected thrill of…rejection? disgust?...through me. The stereotypical image of "nerd" didn't fit either one of them at all. In fact, it seemed so far off the map that it was almost absurd.

I blinked in surprise. What was it about the two of them that would warrant such a reaction? They were boys, for goodness's sake. Young, exuberant school boys. Nothing particularly special.

My subconscious didn't agree with that thought, either, so I shifted uncomfortably and deliberately put the Pevensie brothers out of my head. I didn't have a clue as to why their joining of the team had surprised me, and besides…I had a more immediate problem.

The list in front of me was daunting, mostly because the range in personalities was so defined. From what I had observed, Aden Yates was an insecure, easily provoked bully, as were his friends; Ray Manson was hardworking and honest, if a bit of an outcast, and the Pevensie brothers seemed…well, I didn't know what to think about them. They tended to "hide" from the other students, so perhaps they felt that they were better than their peers. The rest of the fencing members I didn't know very well, but it was a safe assumption that they fell somewhere in between the three categories.

Teaching math class was simple, in a way, by comparison. Each student may have been different, but they all were learning the same thing. Fencing was slightly more complicated. The students had to find their own style and comfort with a blade, and some of them were probably more (or less) experienced than others. How was I supposed to make sure that each one of them was doing the right thing when they were going to be so different?

I was starting to realize that coaching a fencing team would be much different from teaching a math class. And it looked like I definitely was going to end up brightening my teaching experience.

* * *

I gazed idly out the tiny window in my empty (for now) dorm room, wondering what the rest of my family was up to. If this had been a Sunday afternoon in Narnia, my siblings and I would most likely be riding our horses around the Cair, racing each other and enjoying the picnic the cooks had provided for us. We would have stopped to say hello to the dryads and the various Talking Animals (most likely the squirrels and foxes), and consequently would have sore eardrums by the end of the day.

Or, I thought, we would have thoroughly confused Oreius and the fauns (again!) with a game of cricket. It was something that we enjoyed even years into our reign, and as many times as we attempted to teach the other Narnians, only a few of them actually wanted to play with us regularly. There was very little point, a satyr had told us once, in trying to play if Susan always – or very nearly always – managed to beat everybody. Personally, I just thought that most of our subjects were slightly uncomfortable with throwing balls at their beloved queens.

And kings, I hope. Although they were a bit more used to attacking us, since we had trained with many of them every morning.

I sighed quietly to myself, smiling despite the pang of longing the memories caused. I had learned long ago that memories could hurt, cause joy, fall somewhere in between, or be all three at once. I had also discovered – quite recently – that in England, memories of Narnia caused all three.

"Edmund? Edmund, are you in there?!" An annoyed voice from the other side of the locked door startled me and snapped me back to the present. I blinked at the door for a moment before I quickly leapt up and unlocked it.

"Thank you," the muffled voice said, right before the door swung open and nearly smacked me in the nose. "Oops. Sorry." I stared at my brother in confusion as he waved a piece of paper in my face.

"Peter? What are you doing in here?"

"Why didn't you open the door the first two times I knocked?" Peter responded good-naturedly, pretending to be annoyed but not quite succeeding.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't hear you. I was…ah, thinking." I looked at him meaningfully, and his eyes flickered briefly, longing reflected in their blue depths. His voice softened.

"That's alright. Here, I came to show you this…it appeared on the bulletin board earlier this morning." I took the flyer he offered me and scanned it briefly. To my surprise, it was from Mr. Heynes, addressing the people who had signed up for the fencing team. Our first meeting was supposed to be on Wednesday afternoon, right after classes got out.

"Already?" I asked, more pleased than I was expecting myself to be. I really did miss training each day.

"I know," Peter sounded just as excited as I was. "I'm impressed. I was expecting it to be another week before we'd actually get to start."

"Well," I said, casting him a casual glance and setting the flyer down on the windowsill, "I guess that just means one thing."

"What?" Peter asked in confusion, staring at me. "Wait…where are you going?"

I breezed past him and out the door of my dorm room, into the darker hallway.

"To practice, of course. You know as well as I do that this fencing is quite different from what Oreius taught us, and we might as well review what we learned in gym on Friday." I cast him an innocent smile. "Aren't you coming? Or would you prefer to wait here? I'm sure my roommate wouldn't mind meeting you when he comes back."

Peter groaned and rolled his eyes, laughing.

"All right, I'm coming. Just keep your crown on, will you?" I grinned.

"Of course."

* * *

**Mr. Heynes**

Wednesday came at me much faster than I had planned on.

My last math class of the day cast me confused looks throughout the entire lesson. I didn't even notice, really, until halfway through, and then I was embarrassed. I had been stressing out so much about the fencing lesson afterwards that I hadn't been able to focus on what I was teaching. As a result of my embarrassment, I was tense, impatient, and generally not the sort of teacher that I prided myself in being.

By the time the lesson was over, my students were more than ready to leave, and I was more than ready to collapse in my chair and never move again. I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on myself. I knew from experience that teaching when I was nervous or wound up was not a good thing. It tended to lead to half-explained concepts and generally confused students.

And I did not want any of my students to be confused on their first day of fencing. I knew that it was extremely important they get off to a good start.

I glanced at the clock and practically jumped out of my chair; I was going to be late if I didn't get moving. Hastily, I grabbed my notes and shot out the door of the classroom, trying to decide which hallway would get me to the gym the fastest.

Fortunately for me, I arrived before any of the students and was able to assemble all the fencing equipment in a record time of five minutes.

Reasonably pleased with my good work, I pulled out my lesson notes and scanned them one last time, still nervous about what I had to do and hoping that I wouldn't forget to mention anything important. I had grown up with an excellent fencing teacher, and I wanted to provide my students with the same thing.

Three minutes later, just as I was about halfway down the page of notes, the doors to the gym opened and a sandy-haired boy with freckles sauntered in. He was followed by two of his friends, which were considerably shorter than him and looked a tiny bit apprehensive. I frowned to myself. If they were only here because Aden Yates wanted them to be, then I was going to have trouble getting them to focus…which was exactly what I was worried about in the first place.

"Hello, Mr. Heynes," Aden said brightly to me, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. I was taken aback by his cheerfulness; he was usually moody and far more likely to snap at people than he was to smile at them.

"Hello, Mr. Yates," I replied, somehow managing to mask my suspicion. I gave him a brief smile and returned to my notes. I didn't want to put him off, but I really didn't want to look like I played favorites, either.

It was a delicate balance, and the way my actions were interpreted depended quite a lot on the student.

I saw Aden smirk in satisfaction before turning to his friends, speaking to them in a low undertone. My suspicions increased. I was going to have to keep my eye on the three of them.

A minute later, however, Aden Yates had been pushed to the bottom of my worries list; it seemed like the rest of the fencing students had somehow managed to flood in all at once. Within seconds the gym was so noisy that I could hardly hear myself think, let alone instruct anybody.

"Okay everyone, quiet down!" I tried, hoping that my voice had come out louder than what I had just heard. It was hard to tell above all the noise, but I got that impression that only one or two people had heard me. "Class!" I yelled, louder than before. I winced as the words came out of my mouth…that sounded really confident.

I needed to be a teacher. Actually, scratch that….I needed to be a coach, a trainer. There was a significant difference.

"Be quiet!" I roared, and everyone was shocked into silence, including me. I blinked, momentarily panicking, as everyone looked at me. I hadn't actually believed that my yelling would work.

Right, get a grip on yourself, I scolded, and straightened up, glaring at my students.

"That was very poor behavior," said, trying to sound as stern as possible. "I expect more from all of you. This is not your gym class; this is a sport. If you have no interest in treating it as such, I suggest you leave right now."

Nobody moved. I cheered silently in my head, more relieved than I was expecting. The students were looking at me with a mixture of expressions…some were apprehensive, most were respectful, and Aden Yates was sneering.

Yes, he was definitely going to be a problem.

I picked up my second sheet of paper and proceeded to call roll. Everyone who had signed up had managed to make it, including the two students who had put themselves down as "tentative." I was pleased – it was a good sign that they were making an effort.

"Now," I began, trying not to hesitate. The words were rolling around my tongue, and I had to fight hard to get them out in the right order. "As I said, this is a sport. If you want to be able to succeed, it is imperative that you dedicate yourself to your training. The level of your dedication depends on where you want to go, but I ask that you at least make the effort to come to every practice. If you can't make it, you – "

A break in the eyeballs watching me caught my attention.

"Pevensie – err, Pevensies!" I said, trying not to sound too harsh. In truth, though, I was quite annoyed. The two brothers didn't appear to be listening to me at all – they had their heads tilted slightly towards each other, the older one listening intently to whatever the younger was saying.

Both of them started and looked at me guiltily. The eldest blushed faintly as everyone turned to look at them, and straightened up in order to meet my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Heynes," he apologized, and I have to admit; he did sound like he really meant it. "We didn't mean to interrupt, and we should not have been talking. Please, carry on."

For a split second, I was rendered speechless. The apology – and the admittance of wrongdoing – simply sounded wrong coming from a boy as young as he was. It was exactly the opposite of what I had been expecting…namely, self-defense and embarrassment.

I quickly gathered myself together.

"Peter, is it?" I asked, pulling the name off the top of my head. The blond nodded. "You and your brother will do well to not disrupt this class anymore," I told him, somehow feeling the need to make my authority known. It was surprisingly…awkward? I didn't have a clue as to why, but for some reason I felt uncomfortable telling him what to do.

I shook it off. I was the teacher, and the Pevensies were the students.

The rest of my "speech" didn't take very long. Or at least, there were no more interruptions. It seemed as if the class had decided not to bother me anymore, which I didn't complain about. I knew that it was highly unlikely that the respect would last – there was always one who wanted to test the rules – but I was glad that I'd managed to get this far without any major hiccups.

But I wasn't counting on the effects that the length of the practice would have.

* * *

_How was it? I was originally going to have the lesson take up one chapter, but it just got too long and I decided to break it into two. I hope I didn't disappoint anyone! This will tie in with the next chapters and with the previous chapter, trust me. :)_

_And I'm going to try and cut back on the A/N's…_

_Thanks for reading! _


	9. Fighting Instinct

_(Takes a deep breath before stepping into the line of fire) Okay, shoot. I'm really sorry about the delay for this chapter – I know that many of you have been waiting patiently (or impatiently) for an update, and I'm truly sorry that it has taken this long. The only excuses I have to offer include the complications of life and that ever-annoying writer's block. _

_I hope you enjoy this chapter! It gave me a lot of trouble…(as if that wasn't obvious). Shafelm belongs to the author _elecktrum_, and I once again owe a huge thank you to my beta, _phoenixqueen. _She is amazing! _

* * *

**Chapter 9: Fighting Instinct **

I felt guilty about interrupting Mr. Heynes' speech. I, above all of the people here (well, except for Edmund…and perhaps Mr. Heynes) knew the importance of hard, dedicated training. Oreius had seen to that rather quickly. And I didn't normally talk in class – I knew my place when it came to speaking. It was just that…well, actually, I was quite surprised that Mr. Heynes had picked up on our discussion at all.

Here was what had happened:

"_Peter," Edmund breathed quietly. I blinked and glanced around, wondering if I'd imagined my brother's voice. I was used to having near-silent conversations with him – we had perfected it in court while we were in Narnia – but in__England__it was sometimes hard to tell if he was trying to catch my attention. I wasn't quite sure why that was, but I supposed that it must have had something to do with our hearing. It just wasn't as sharp as it had been in Narnia, although I couldn't explain exactly how or why._

"_Peter!" Edmund hissed. That I definitely heard._

"_What?" I whispered out of the corner of my mouth, careful not to look at my brother. I was rather against the idea of Mr. Heynes suspecting anything._

"_John isn't here," Edmund muttered, "And his name wasn't called. Didn't he tell us that he'd signed up?" I frowned and scanned the group of people in front of us. Edmund was right; John was no where to be seen._

"_He signed up," I said quietly, glancing at my brother. "I saw his name on the list. I wonder why – "_

"_Pevensie – er, Pevensies!"_

_Mr. Heynes' surprisingly stern voice cut right through my sentence. I jumped slightly,__**still**__unused to being addressed like a typical English boy. I turned guiltily to my fencing instructor, ignoring Edmund's exasperated puff of breath. My brother was no doubt annoyed with the interruption, although in all honesty we should not have been talking in the first place. I had to squash the mixed feelings that thought caused; we still had not quite gotten used to being boys again, and sometimes the need to discuss important things at our discretion simply felt too natural to be ignored._

_That didn't make it right in certain situations, though. An apology to our instructor seemed to be in order, whether we liked it or not. Such was the duty of kings…even if we were only schoolboys at the moment._

Luckily, Mr. Heynes hadn't seemed too displeased with us. He was definitely annoyed, but I was hoping we'd be able to rectify that throughout the rest of the lesson. I also thought he might be a tiny bit surprised that we had admitted we'd been talking…obviously he had been expecting self-defense on my part.

Well, our dear teacher would simply have to get used to our adult-like personalities. Edmund and I might be boys again, but that didn't mean we had forgotten everything that we'd learned in Narnia. In fact, on the contrary we had retained nearly everything, and we were very determined to keep those lessons with us. And both of us had learned over the years that owning up to our problems and our failures was far, far better than trying to ignore or deny them.

…even if those problems included an insignificant moment of talking during class.

"Peter, honestly. I know you're a teenager again, but I'd expect that you would be able to run better than this!" Edmund's teasing voice came softly from my right. I blinked in surprise, realizing that he was nearly running in front of me. Mr. Heynes had assigned everyone seven laps around the gym while he analyzed our fencing equipment, and I had been so lost in my thoughts that I'd slowed down considerably.

"Well, forgive me if I'm not quite as motivated this time around," I teased back, increasing my pace to run next to him again, "After all, I'm not being chased by a giant black centaur."

Edmund snorted with laughter. Our very first day of training at Cair Paravel had resulted in a frantic run around the castle…frantic meaning that Edmund and I had been panting desperately for air, half-terrified at the prospect of being caught by Oreius. (Who, in a spur-of-the-moment inspiration, had decided to make us go faster by chasing us). I realized later that he'd actually been going quite slow – centaurs can run far faster than any human – but at the time the threat had worked. We had shot around the Cair so quickly that we'd actually managed to crash into Lucy, who had been on her way to the fields to watch us train.

"Point taken," Edmund admitted, and unconsciously the two of us stepped up the pace as we shared a moment of sorrow for our days of training under Oreius. Hardly a second of sentimentality had gone by, however, before our new instructor was yelling at us.

"Pevensies!" Mr. Heynes barked, "What lap are you on? I do believe that you passed your seventh two laps ago!"

I slowed down and automatically looked at Edmund in surprise. Nine laps already? Had we really gone that fast? Apparently Oreius had rubbed off on us quite a bit.

I couldn't help but be cheered by that thought as I turned and jogged back to the corner of the gym, where most of the class had already assembled. A few people were looking at us in surprise – we'd certainly never gone that far in gym class – and I pointedly ignored them. Mr. Heynes deserved the attention right now, not us.

"Right," our instructor began, once everyone was looking at him, "None of you can ever hope to get anywhere in fencing if you don't have the right equipment…and even more importantly, your equipment has to fit. This includes everything from your mask to your jacket – you only touch your sword _after_you have your gear on, understood?"

There was a murmur of assent from the group. I noticed that one of the boys – a skinny, sandy-haired youth with a smattering of freckles across his nose – had crossed his arms and wasn't paying attention at all. I frowned momentarily and resolved to keep an eye on him; lack of listening could lead to some unfortunate accidents.

"Good," Mr. Heynes said, pleased that we had caught on so quickly. "So, as many of you have probably guessed, a good portion of this lesson will include fitting you for your equipment. You _will_be required to wear everything in practice for two important reasons: the first reason is that the gear will mark the target areas during a bout. The second reason is the more important, as it is a matter of safety. Without the protective gear, you will be fortunate to come out of a bout with only bruises. If you do not wear your gear, you will not fence. Is that clear?"

Edmund grinned appreciatively at me, which I returned. I could almost see Oreius getting along with this math teacher…if they were in the same world, that is…and if Mr. Heynes knew that centaurs existed. Both of them seemed to project the no-nonsense air that was critical in trainers.

Mr. Heynes then proceeded to describe to us the different functions of the fencing equipment. The first part consisted of a long-sleeved, canvas jacket, which covered everything from the waist up to the throat. I wasn't very familiar with canvas, but I didn't think that it could be much different from the leather armor we had sometimes worn while training at the Cair. It was probably a bit more flexible than leather, actually.

The next part consisted of the mask, which was basically a rounded, hardened black mesh screen that covered the entire front part of the face. The mesh was fastened to more thick canvas, which went all around the edge of the mesh, and then trailed down past the chin and over the throat. The mask was held in place by a thin, flexible metal straps that went over the top and stopped about halfway down the back of the head, while elastic straps went around the sides of the head and tied in the back. I stared at the mask a bit longer than was probably necessary, attempting to assess the different problems it would bring up while trying to fence.

"How is anyone expected to see properly out of that thing?" Edmund whispered to me as Mr. Heynes turned his back to us while he set the mask down. I shrugged and answered him quickly, keeping an eye on our fencing teacher.

"I suppose we'll find out soon enough…it can't be much worse than a helm." Edmund considered that for a moment before agreeing with me.

The last part of the gear consisted of a single canvas glove, which was meant to cover the hand holding the sword. This seemed rather strange to all of us, before Mr. Heynes explained that the other hand was supposed to be kept behind the back. I looked at Edmund in surprise for the second time that day, only to find that he was giving me the same look back. We were both realizing just how different that was going to be. Normally, our other hands were doing something; holding a shield, a second sword, or wielding one sword with both hands. The second hand rarely did nothing unless it had been injured, and that was not the best of circumstances.

Before I could fully wrap my mind around that strange new concept, though, Mr. Heynes asked for all of us to line up. He wanted to personally fit each one of us for our gear, and as admirable as that was – and important, too – it was the start of the downhill turn the lesson took.

Edmund and I were used to waiting. It was part of our duty as kings, and I suspect that it eventually became part of our character (although I hadn't realized it until we'd returned to England). We were accustomed to putting others' needs before our own, accustomed to doing things we would have rather never done at all.

In short, we had developed patience. And I'd forgotten how impatient we had once been.

A few things I have observed about adolescent boys in the recent months; they tend to have a limited attention span, they enjoy outdoing each other, and they hate waiting. Also, I should add that they generally do not like to be fitted for any type of clothing; something that I still did not enjoy, although I was careful to never say so within earshot of my sisters.

"Really," Edmund said reproachfully in my ear, eyes glued to the front of the line, "How long does it take to properly put on a fencing jacket? It can't be any worse then our school shirts and all those accursed buttons."

"Or our armor," I muttered, craning my neck to get a better view of Mr. Heynes. He was attempting to fit one of the boys for his fencing jacket, although it had been five minutes and they hadn't had much success. Since we were in the back of the line, it seemed as though we were going to have a good, long wait ahead of us.

"It feels good to be doing something again, doesn't it?" Edmund asked after a moment, absentmindedly watching as Mr. Heynes rejected yet another jacket for the boy he was fitting. I understood what he meant – it was good to feel like we had something to work for. Ever since we'd come back to England, all four of us had felt rather useless. Housework had hardly been a challenge, and although we'd tried to help Mum as much as possible, there was only so much we could do. Between the four of us, I rather think that our poor mother had had nothing left to clean.

"Yes," I said decisively, smiling slightly. "It feels good to train again, too. I'd forgotten what it was like to run for a while without stopping." Edmund stifled a laugh.

"Me, too. I guess we went overboard a bit, didn't we?" He paused. "Well, we probably wouldn't have run the extra two laps if we hadn't been thinking of Oreius." I grinned.

"I'm sure he would be honored if he knew."

"Yes, and then he'd make us run another five laps," Edmund replied flatly, humor sparkling in his eyes. I lightly cuffed him on the back of the head. He cuffed me back.

The first boy in line had finally been fitted. He ran up to one of his friends, practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Look," he bragged, holding out his one-gloved hand for his companion to see. "Coach Heynes said that it fit me perfectly. I think it fits pretty well myself, actually. I don't know if _you'll_be able to find one that will fit you – your hands are really small. The gloves will probably fall off."

Edmund glanced at me with raised eyebrows. I shrugged at him and shifted sideways, trying to get a better view of the speaker. He was standing at the front of the line, talking to his friend, who was up next. I recognized him as the sandy-haired, freckly-faced boy that hadn't been paying attention to Mr. Heynes earlier. His second friend appeared to be getting fitted for his own fencing equipment, and he had taken it upon himself to commentate for his first friend.

"_That _jacket will never work," Sandy-Hair sniffed. "I can't believe that Mr. Heynes even tried it on – the shoulders are obviously too small. What a waste of time…"

"Bit full of himself, isn't he?" Edmund muttered, turning his back on the boy. I nodded and followed my brother's lead in attempting to tune Sandy-Hair out.

"Too bad he's not a stuck-up noble," I said, winking. "At least then you'd be able to argue with him…or possibly get him to be quiet."

Sandy-Hair's friend was finished with his fitting, and the two of them hung around the front of the line, waiting for the third member of the party to get his gear. They were talking louder than anyone else in the gym, which consequently forced the people around them to raise their voices in order to be heard.

"Your jacket looks a bit big," Sandy-Hair said bluntly, eyeing his other friend as he finished with his fitting. Mr. Heynes glanced at them, and I thought I saw him roll his eyes.

"Yates, move over there," our coach said, gesturing a little to the right of where Edmund and I were standing, "And start warming up. I want at least thirty-sit ups and push-ups, more if you can manage it. And don't forget to stretch your Achilles!"

"Sure, Coach Heynes," Sand-Hair said with false brightness. He then proceeded to lead his companions to the assigned area. "'And don't forget to stretch your Achilles!'" he quoted in an annoyed whisper as he passed us, "Honestly, how old does he think we are? Eight?"

"Now why would he get that impression?" Edmund huffed sarcastically under his breath. I stifled a snort of laughter, noting with some encouragement that we had moved forward in the line. "What was his name again?"

"Whose?" I asked, bouncing up on the balls of my toes to try and count how many people were ahead of us.

"His," Edmund replied, tilting his head towards Sandy-Hair. "I didn't quite hear what Mr. Heynes said."

"It was Yates, I think." I shrugged. "His last name. Oh, wait…" I looked at Edmund, the connection hovering near the edge of my consciousness.

"That rings a bell," my brother agreed, answering my unspoken question. "Who was it that was telling us about someone called Yates? I think it was…oh, of course. It was John."

I racked my memory, trying to come up with a scene in which John had mentioned a sandy-haired, annoying boy called Yates. He must have been talking just to Edmund, because I didn't remember anything.

"Aden, that was his name." Edmund was reflecting, "I think…John might have been friends with him before the chess club…"

"Do you suppose that's why he didn't show up today?" I asked, remembering our earlier worry over John's absence. Edmund merely nudged me in the back and jerked his head forward, grinning slightly. The line had moved ahead of us, and yet we were still standing in the same spot as before. "Oops," I muttered, quickly closing the gap in a few hasty strides. Edmund rolled his eyes good-naturedly at me.

"Maybe," he said, picking the conversation back up again, aware now that we were closer to other teammates. "I can't understand why he didn't come. Ever since he saw us – uh, practicing – he's been rather overexcited about fencing."

"You don't say," I muttered, remembering the barrage of questions that had followed us for days afterwards. Edmund was about to reply when a loud laugh interrupted him.

"What was _that_?" Aden's voice asked gleefully, and both of us turned to watch what he was doing. His friend had apparently just tried to mock-fence with him, even though they didn't have their blades yet. "You can't use that move – you look like you're about to fall over! Here, I'll show you how it's done."

What Aden then proceeded to "show off" made both of us cringe. If his form was supposedly better than his friend's, then I was eternally grateful that I had not been watching their mock-duel. The other members of the fencing team, who were waiting with them, began slowly inching away. I did not blame them the slightest.

"Yates, quit flailing around and get started on those sit ups!" Mr. Heynes growled. Edmund immediately began coughing, no doubt attempting to smother a laugh. He prodded me in the back, propelling me towards our fencing coach. With a start, I realized that it was my turn to be fitted; we'd fallen behind in the line. Again.

* * *

"Honestly, he's worse than Susan!" Edmund huffed as he joined me, fully suited up for the fencing lesson. His jacket seemed to be a tad too big on him – but being as small as he was, that really wasn't much of a surprise. "He must have had me put on seven different jackets, all of which were apparently too big!"

"Well, you really must admit it – you're not as tall as you once were, brother mine," I teased. Edmund scowled at me.

"Don't rub it in," he muttered. I gently ruffled his hair in response.

"At least you know that you'll get taller," I offered. He ducked out from under my hand, slightly pink.

"Peter! This _is _a fencing class!"

"I know," I said calmly, and ruffled his hair again.

"All right, everyone!" Mr. Heynes barked, interrupting whatever it was Edmund had been about to say, "need for all of you to come and choose a sword. The weight should feel balanced – not too heavy, not too light, and make sure that your hand fits comfortably around the hilt. Your hand should not be larger than the bell guard, since the bell guard will protect your hand. The sword – hilt included – should come up to your waist when the tip is rested on the floor. After that, you are to put on your masks and line up!"

I nodded, half to myself and half to Edmund. Those requirements were basic and correct, although both of us knew – perhaps better than Mr. Heynes – that there was far more to a sword than that.

Finding a proper sword was more difficult than either one of us had been expecting. The fencing blades were simple and light; they were a square rod that was thicker at the base and taped gradually smaller, with a rubber stop fitted over the dulled tip. Although they looked a bit flimsy in comparison to what we were used to, they were surprisingly strong and flexible. The hilts were smooth, with a simple bell guard to protect the hand.

They were the opposite of everything we were accustomed to.

We were the last to finally select a sword. The problem, we eventually identified, was that we kept unconsciously comparing the blades to our broadswords. Nothing in England would ever – or could ever – compare to Rhindon or Shafelm, and so we had to try and forget about them for a time while we focused on the current fencing lesson.

The situation made me sad, although not in the same gut-wrenching way it used to. This sadness was more of an irrational longing, because in my mind I knew I would never be able to wield Rhindon the same way I had before. For all I knew, I might never even hold my blade again. Shaking my head, I firmly tucked those thoughts into a corner of my heart, making a mental note to myself to go back and re-visit them later.

The fencing mask was cumbersome and awkward to get on my head. Edmund had to help me figure out the placement of the straps, and likewise I helped him. We both felt rather ridiculous once we had them on, though – the wire mesh screen was a serious hindrance in our eyesight.

"Is this supposed to make it more difficult, or is that just a side effect?" Edmund wondered. I would have cuffed him on the head if it hadn't been encased in the mask.

"It's better than poking an eye out," I reminded him mildly, pointedly ignoring him when he rolled his eyes good-naturedly at me.

"Everyone have a sword?" Mr. Heynes called from across the group of students, glancing our way. He had already approved of their blade choices, and he cast an eye over ours before nodding slightly. "Nicely balanced," he told us, before turning to the group at large. I couldn't help but feel a tiny bit pleased with his approval, even though I knew that after all I'd done, it would have been a bit of a surprise to pick a blade that wouldn't work. Some shadow of feeling must still be ingrained inside me, whispering that I should be proud to get compliments from my swordm – fencing instructor.

Edmund nudged me as Mr. Heynes began to explain to us a basic attack and block technique, urging me to return my thoughts to the present. I'd missed the first part of whatever Mr. Heynes had said, but it turned out not to be a problem, because it was the same move we'd learned in gym earlier that week. Edmund and I had been practicing, so I didn't have any qualms about being paired with someone else when Mr. Heynes started to split us up. Although I would have preferred to stay with Edmund, I was at least comfortable enough with this move to be certain that I wouldn't unconsciously revert to Narnian technique while fencing with a stranger.

"Pevensie, Pevensie," Mr. Heynes muttered as he reached us, looking us up and down before turning to the remaining un-partnered students. "You," he pointed at me, "Team up with Mason. Yates, get over here and work with Pevensie." He gestured to Edmund before heading off to assist the others.

"Who's 'Mason'?" I wondered aloud, glancing at Edmund when he made a small noise of resignation. "What?"

"Of all the people I could've been partnered with," he sighed, looking over my shoulder, "I get the one most likely to accidentally cut me to pieces."

I followed his gaze to where Aden was standing, wildly swinging his sword around for his friend to see. He hadn't made any moves towards Edmund yet, and I briefly wondered if it was because he didn't care, or if he expected Edmund to come to him.

"Hmm," I said thoughtfully, doing my best to keep a straight face, "He looks like quite a threat. You're right – you are in danger."

"What?" Edmund asked in confusion, watching as Aden swung his sword so fiercely that he overbalanced and fell.

"All those self-centered nobles and Susan's suitors…they all pale in comparison to what you have to listen to now," I sighed, shaking my head. As if to demonstrate my point, Aden clambered back to his feet and began to loudly proclaim that he'd fallen on purpose, his voice managing to carry all the way to where we were standing.

"Yates, Pevensies!" Mr. Heynes barked from across the room, "I don't see you practicing!"

With a guilty start, I realized that everyone else had partnered and was beginning to try out the new technique. Well, nearly everyone. A dark-haired boy of about my height was standing just to my left, looking nervous and awkward about something. I blinked, my attention derailed from Aden and Edmund.

"Hello," I said automatically, trying to figure out why he wasn't practicing. The answer clubbed me over the head a second later. "Er…are you my fencing partner?"

"Ray Mason," the boy said in reply, sticking out his un-gloved hand and looking quite relieved, "I don't think I've met you before, although we are in the same literature class."

"Oh," I said, a guilty flush creeping into my cheeks as I shook his hand. "Well, it's nice to meet you." In all honesty, I didn't remember ever hearing of a Ray Manson before. Literature was one of the more boring classes for me, along with Math, because it was a subject that I already excelled in. It was also a class that I consistently caught myself reminiscing about Narnia in, so I really didn't pay much attention to my classmates.

"So," Ray said, a little shyly, "I guess we should get started." He took his place at one end of the tape-marked boundaries and pulled his mask more firmly into place, as I likewise did the same. He raised his sword slightly before hesitating. "You want to practice offense first?" he asked. I would have been happy to let him do defense, which I surmised he felt most comfortable with, but I knew that he would actually have a much harder time if I were on the offense.

"No, you can go first," I said kindly, making a mental note to go easy on him. From what I could see of Ray's face through the mask, he looked worried. I tried to bolster his confidence. "Don't worry," I said, hoping I didn't sound like Aden, "I'm not that comfortable with offense, either." Which, to a certain degree, was the truth; I wasn't nearly as familiar with this type of fencing in comparison to Narnia. Still, I was likely much more evenly matched with Mr. Heynes, even in the unfamiliar style…for this particular technique, at any rate.

"Well, okay…here goes nothing," Ray muttered, and then proceeded to give his best effort in attacking me.

We worked for about fifteen minutes, switching positions after the first ten. Mr. Heynes was walking between the groups, watching us and correcting our technique. Ray wasn't the fastest learner I'd ever met, but he did put a good effort into what he did, and I admired him for that. It was true that I managed to score a point within the first minute of me being on the offense, but I credited that more towards the time I'd spent practicing with Edmund than to Ray's lack of effort. I still felt awkward holding the fencing blade, and I knew that I would never be able to fully rid myself of the instincts ingrained by Oreius.

Thinking about Oreius directed my attention back towards my brother, and while Ray and I took a brief rest, I turned to watch his ongoing bout with Aden Yates.

Edmund look remarkably good, considering that this was (more or less) our first fencing lesson. He was light on his feet, his movements solid, although not quite as precise as I remembered. This was, of course, because he was fencing in a completely different style. As I watched, he jerked suddenly and slightly to the right before quickly catching himself. No one else would have thought much of it, other than to guess that he'd started to make a move and had changed his mind.

I knew far better than that. I recognized the swiftness of his foot, and way it was placed just at a certain distance from his body. It was the start of a move that Oreius had taught us long ago, one that I had used countless times, and one that Edmund had often used against me. His instincts were fighting for dominance inside him, trying to make themselves heard over this new type of sword fighting.

Something was wrong. Edmund and I had learned discipline and control, in the court, councils, and especially in battle. Some battle instincts were to be indulged, and often depended on, but others were to be locked tightly inside us…for instance, the instinct to protect each other at extreme cost to ourselves or our subjects. Sometimes that instinct had been required to be ignored. Sometimes, it was better to let the other conquer his own demons, as opposed to one of us rushing in to save him.

We knew how to control that, and once we could control that most important instinct, the others followed suit with relative ease. In comparison, at any rate. We rarely lost control….not unless something had happened to set us too close to the edge, not unless circumstances were too far out of our control…

My gaze snapped to Edmund's face, but the mask prevented me from seeing his features clearly. Since I was at a better angle to see through Aden's mask, I studied him for a few moments, but was unable to discern anything except the fact that his mouth was moving. Aslan, what on earth could he be saying that would make Edmund lose focus enough to revert to Narnian instinct?

But Edmund couldn't have lost that much focus. I had always been able to tell when he was distracted…it had shown so clearly in his swordsmanship…

…and it _was_. I had simply missed it, as the style was so unfamiliar to me. I hadn't yet learned to recognize the way Edmund moved in this new type of combat. Now that I looked, however, I could see the tenseness in his calves and the rigidness in his arms, his movements slightly sharper than I remembered from our practice rounds.

This wasn't good. I needed to get him away, to find out what was bothering him and calm him down before he did something seemingly bizarre in front of our classmates.

"Peter?" Ray called after me in confusion as I moved towards my brother, trying to come up with a good excuse as I went. My efforts were lost a moment later, as Edmund suddenly went on autopilot. His thin blade whipped around Aden's, the momentum carrying him gracefully out of the tape-marked boundaries as he swept to the other side, knocking the blade cleanly out of his opponent's hand.

Had we not been standing in the middle of our school gym, in fencing outfits, holding fencing blades, and in full view of an astonished Mr. Heynes and twelve other classmates, Oreius would have applauded.

* * *

_Don't forget to hit the review button! Please? :)_

_I'm not going to make any predictions regarding the next chapter (the last time I did that, it didn't work out at all!), but if it were a perfect world I'd have it out in about two weeks. So keep your fingers crossed! _

_Keep writing! _


	10. Slipping

**Chapter 10:**

I reined in my conflicted emotions, struggling to maintain some semblance of calm as I raised my eyes to my opponent. To my surprise, Aden Yates was standing the wrong way, his hands empty and an expression of pure shock written across his masked face. Confused, I glanced over Aden's shoulder and saw that my brother was currently frozen halfway between his boundaries and mine. Peter was struggling to keep his features calm, but I could see concern, surprise, and – for just a moment – a hint of panic in his eyes.

My first instinct was to go to him, to ask him what was wrong. A moment later I clamped down on that feeling – Aslan, I seemed to be doing that a lot lately – and tried to look at the situation logically.

Then I noticed that Mr. Heynes was staring at me. And because the teacher was staring at me, I was naturally attracting the attention of a good percentage of the class.

"What d'you think you're doing?" the boy in front of me finally managed to splutter, looking uncharacteristically wary. "I – you – you completely broke the rules!" Aden stammered wildly, unconsciously backing up from me half a step. I found it rather bizarre to be lectured on rules by one who had such a low regard for rules himself. "That wasn't even a fencing move, was it? I – where did you learn that?"

Wasn't a fencing…what was he talking about?

I decided to briefly ignore Aden's demands, searching past his shoulder for my brother. Peter had made his way across the room and was talking quickly to Mr. Heynes, making nervous hand gestures that told me he hadn't a very good idea of what he was saying. I frowned, wondering what in Narnia he was doing, before it finally hit home to me that Aden wasn't standing in the incorrect place – I was.

Somehow, I was standing on the other side of my partner, which was outside our taped boundaries and quite outside the guidelines of fencing. Even worse, I saw Aden's sword lying ten feet away to my left…where it definitely should not be.

With a flash of understanding, I realized what must have happened. I didn't remember using a Narnian move, of course…but that was the only explanation for the switched positions, Aden's nervousness, and the peculiar looks I was now receiving from the rest of my classmates. Aslan, what had I executed on the unsuspecting pest in front of me? I mentally groaned, regretting the set of emotionally unbalancing circumstances that had led me to become so engrossed in my memories of Narnia…

"Edmund?" Peter's voice asked, soft but with a hint of that _listen-to-me-now-so-we-can-get-out-of-this-quickly_ tone he'd used on me many times before, "Come outside for a moment." He had appeared on my left, his gloved hand reaching across to gently pry the sword from my grip. As he straightened up, he passed instructions quietly through my mask. "I told Mr. Heynes we needed to leave. Take off your fencing gear and meet me outside the gym."

Still confused – and a little bit in denial – about what I suspected I had just done, and not entirely sure I could trust myself to think straight through the emotions still bouncing about my head, I did the natural thing. I nodded, faked a calm expression, and followed my brother out the door as serenely as I could manage. I must have looked quite strange to the students left in the gym, but I couldn't help but think that if this were Narnia, I would have done a fine job of assuring my subjects that I was fine…

"Edmund?" Peter said, his voice just above a whisper as I slipped quietly out of the gym. We were standing in the hallway between the gym doors and the storage room, where virtually anyone could walk by and overhear our conversation.

"I'm fine, Peter," I tried to reassure my brother. "I just…had a hard time staying focused." Which naturally set off the alarm bells in my brother's head; I rarely lost focus, unless something life-threatening had happened to my siblings. Peter eyed me doubtfully.

"You were fine when we practiced yesterday. And don't you think it would be easier to lose focus while sparring with me – as opposed to someone else – because we've been practicing together for the last…number of years? I would think you'd be on your guard around someone you don't know very well." I was beginning to understand that "staying focused" meant not slipping into Narnia. Peter was eyeing me worriedly, clearly trying to figure out what was wrong without asking very many questions.

"I suppose…" I agreed half-heartedly. He had me, but I was strangely reluctant to acknowledge my feelings. I hedged a bit. "Except…well, when we practice together, it doesn't matter as much if we 'lose focus,' does it? If I start to imagine we're at the training grounds, it's as if we both imagine together. If I let myself be Narnian, nothing seems wrong when I'm with you, because you're Narnian, too. I haven't had to stay focused in our practices."

"The lines blur," Peter sighed, more to himself than to me. "Only you normally have so much control, regardless. What happened? Was Yates trying to provoke you? He seemed like the sort who would."

Of course he had, but he was only one of the reasons why I'd 'lost focus' – and a minor one, at that. He did not yet deserve to be put on my overprotective brother's "I-need-to-shield-Edmund-from-these-people" list, and I tried to evade the question. I shrugged, feeling a little bit helpless as I tried to sort my confused thoughts.

"It's hard to…"

I trailed off there, suddenly stumped. I had been about to confess to Peter just how hard it was to maintain the schoolboy demeanor, only I had vowed to myself months ago not to burden my brother with the full weight of my problems. While it was true that we had shared much of our feelings in Narnia, it was also true that I had hidden a portion – a very small portion – of those feelings, as well. It was my first instinct to shield Peter from some of my deepest emotions; while I knew they were often difficult to deal with alone, somehow my initial thought was that it would be even worse to share them. To know I was inflicting them on another person…especially if that person was Peter…

"Ed?" Peter prompted gently, worry in his voice. He could tell I was torn over telling him something. I looked up to meet his eyes, my mind flashing briefly to earlier this afternoon as I searched for a way to answer him.

* * *

_Brrriiinnnggg!_

_The harsh wail of the telephone startled me, causing the book I was reading to slip out of my hands as I reached automatically for Shafelm. A split-second later, I realized that I was not about to be attacked – and that Shafelm was quite out of my reach – and dived for the phone._

"_Hello?" I asked in a slightly breathless voice, my feet still trying to catch up with the upper half of my body. I tripped over the book on the floor and nearly dropped the phone._

"_Edmund?" a familiar voice answered, causing a wide grin to spread across my face._

"_Su!" I exclaimed, kicking the book out of the way and perching on the edge of my bed. "Aslan, where've you been? I was going to call you this Friday if I hadn't heard from you by then."_

"_I'm sorry," she said, sounding contrite. Her next words spilled out in a rush. "It's just that it's been so hard to find a moment to write, and I tried calling on Saturday but no one answered the phone and my roommate wanted to use it to call her boyfriend, so I thought I'd try calling later but I didn't realize she had about five other people to call as well, and I don't think she really likes me much so she took a very long time, and when she finally finished I had to go to this meeting for –"_

"_Lion's mane, slow down!" I pleaded, my head reeling from her sudden avalanche of information. "Who is it that won't let you use the phone?"_

"_It's not that she won't let me use it," Susan corrected, making an effort to speak clearly for my benefit, "She just makes it very hard for me to have a decent conversation in a decent amount of time."_

"_And who is this?" I asked, still trying to put the pieces together._

"_My roommate," Susan supplied. "She's quite bothersome, really; I hardly ever get a moment to myself. She's very territorial, and she tends to spend a lot of time in our room, which means that she's almost always here before I am, so…well, it's not like I can sit down and start writing a letter in plain sight, can I? Not if I want to mention Narnia." _

_I noticed that her voice broke slightly on Narnia._

"_It would be hard to have a conversation with any of us if she were in the room," I said carefully, trying to gauge her mood. "I assume she's not with you now, considering that you just told me a few things she might not care to hear?" _

"_She's not," Susan confirmed, which wasn't very helpful. Two-word answers didn't give me enough voice to tell what she was thinking._

_There was a faint sniff._

"_Su, are you crying?" I asked in alarm, automatically looking around for a tissue or handkerchief before realizing that I couldn't even give one to her._

"_I'm sorry!" Susan cried, sniffing again. "I didn't mean to…I didn't want to worry you, only…it's been so hard, not having you or Lucy or Peter around. It's like…it's like I can't focus throughout the day, and I can't stop thinking about Narnia or what might be happening there, or where we might be if we hadn't gone back through the wardrobe, and I…I don't like being away from us," she mumbled, her voice creeping down in pitch. "It's like I can't function on my own anymore, and there's no one here that I can talk to and I feel so different from all the other girls in my class because I can't understand the way they think, and they can't understand me and I…I want Aslan," she confessed in a whisper, her voice cracking on His name. There was another sniff, louder this time._

"_Su…" I said helplessly, unsure how to comfort her. I wanted so deeply to help, but I wasn't prepared. How could I be, when I was having the same problems…?_

"_I'm sorry," Susan repeated, her voice a little muffled. "I didn't mean to…to tell you all that. I know you have a lot to deal with, too, and none of us are feeling quite like ourselves, and Lucy mentioned that you said Peter wasn't adjusting well either, so – "_

"_Susan." I interrupted her calmly but firmly, trying to clamp down on my scattered thoughts. "You should not be sorry for sharing your feelings. In fact, if you ever say something like that again, I will personally visit your school, drag you out to lunch, and have a nice long conversation about Narnia in plain earshot of anyone within twenty feet. I'll bring Peter, too. And Lucy."_

_There was a half-hearted snort of laughter from the other end. (If I ever told Susan that she'd just snorted, she would promptly deny it. And in any case, I didn't think it a wise thing to say at the moment)._

"_As for Peter…" I hesitated, wondering how to phrase my thoughts. "He's not...well, he's not as bad as he was when we first came back. But sometimes, when he thinks that no one's looking, or when something reminds him of Narnia…he gets this look in his eyes…" I paused, unsure how to explain it._

"_He gets the same fire behind his eyes that sparked in Narnia, whenever he did something that made him truly Magnificent," Susan filled in, much to my astonishment. "Only now it seems as though the fire has been clouded by a shadow, and the result is heartbreaking because you know that he's not the same, and it reflects in his eyes. And it scares you, because you realize that if Peter doesn't feel the same anymore…" _

_She let the sentence hang, though I was unwilling to finish it._

"_How do you know that?" I spluttered instead, impressed and a little surprised that she could read our brother so well, even though she hadn't seen him since the end of summer._

"_Aslan, Ed, I thought that would be obvious; you get the same look. Lucy, too. And it's scared me, because if the three of you can be so lost, then I must be even more so, because I've never been as…well, as strong," Susan admitted, her voice wavering slightly. "I'm not the same without all of you, and you're not the same without Narnia and Aslan. I just…I wish Lucy were here with me, at least…"_

"_I know it's hard," I said bracingly, wondering if my words would be of any help, "But you're right, though. You can't cope on your own. Listen, Susan, I'm not sure what you need to do to get your fair share of the telephone, but you have to make contact with us more often. We've always functioned better when we're together, but since we're…well, not…we're going to have to work around the distance." I paused, struck by a sudden idea. "We can develop a schedule to keep in touch, if you'd like; I know you're good with schedules and such. I haven't talked with you since the beginning of the school year, and that needs to change, because how else are we to work together? We should write or talk at least once a week…" _

"…_if I can get my roommate off the telephone," Susan mumbled under her breath. Fortunately, I heard her. _

"_Susan Pevensie, this is not like you," I told her bluntly. I'd been in similar periods of self-doubt before, and often Peter had had to slam me out of them. I had done the same for him, but never for a lady, so I hoped I was going about this correctly. "You are a Queen, regardless of the fact that only three other people on Earth know it. I've seen you reach the hardest, most remote souls and turn them into something warm and vibrant. I've seen you find courage in the moments you doubt the most. I know who you are, so now you need to show yourself that you know it, too."_

"_But – but that wasn't me!" Susan cried, her voice breaking again and sounding slightly hysterical. "I can't find that here, Edmund! My strengths belong in Narnia, are a part of Narnia – I…they came from Aslan, Ed. And Aslan's not here." _

_Something twisted in my chest._

"_Aslan wouldn't abandon us, Susan. I'm sure Lucy's told you that?" Lucy was a key force behind our path of faith. She often understood so much more than she let on, and her insights were welcome in our times of doubt. Ever since we'd come back to England, we had needed them so much more than usual…_

"_I – yes, she did." Susan sounded a little ashamed. "I didn't mean for it to sound as though…as though I don't trust Him anymore. It's just that I feel so…wrong…all the time. I don't have the same character I had in Narnia."_

"_And there, dear sister, is where you are wrong," I said, somewhat triumphantly. "You're still a Queen, whether you feel like one or not. Your crown didn't give you the ability to become Gentle; not even Narnia gave you that. S –"_

"_How can you say that?" Susan interrupted, sounding shocked. "Narnia made me Gentle – Aslan gave me that title! How can you –"_

"_You just answered your own question. Narnia _made_ you Gentle, and Aslan _gave_ you your title – in the confidence that you would discover its meaning, through the experiences you would encounter while in Narnia. You learned things from our country – gained them over the years as you experienced more of her. You chose to embrace what Aslan had given you, and in so doing, became open to the thoughts and actions that made you Gentle. England can't change that. Not unless you choose to let go of who you are and embrace the Susan that England might offer you."_

"_But what if Aslan put us here because he wants me to embrace England?" Susan asked in a trembling voice, so quiet that I had to strain to hear._

"_Su, somehow I don't think Aslan would have sent us to grow up in Narnia if he didn't want us to retain who we've become." I paused. "That line came from Lucy." _

_That coaxed a slight laugh out of her. "I figured as much."_

"_But it makes sense, doesn't it?" I prompted. "You're still Queen Susan the Gentle, although no one has to know you're a queen to understand who you are. I believe that is the lesson Aslan is trying to teach us by sending us back to England. So we ought to embrace it."_

"_Did those lines also come from Lucy?"_

_I sighed. "Perhaps. But does that make them any less real?"_

"_No."_

_There was a long silence from the other end of phone while both of us processed our thoughts. I was surprised at my apparent insight; I hadn't realized just what had been going through my head these past few weeks, nor that I'd managed to work out some sort of logic to our situation. What bothered me now was that no matter what I'd just told Susan, it was still hard for me to believe what I understood. It disturbed me, because I had rarely had that problem before. Susan broke the silence with a sigh. _

"_Thank you, Edmund," she said, a little thickly. "I…it's hard to talk to Lucy about this. I don't like looking weak in front of her – not my little sister – and I didn't want to go to Peter, because he worries more than he needs to. Of course, I didn't want to worry you, either, but…"_

"_It's alright," I assured her, a wave of relief washing through me now that I knew she understood something. "I know exactly how you feel. Even I can't go to just one person – namely, Peter – every time I need advice."_

"_I understand," Susan said, then hesitated briefly. "I'll try to call more often."_

_I nodded, even though she couldn't see me._

"_I'll be waiting." _

* * *

"Susan called," I found myself saying to Peter. The words slipped out of my mouth of their own accord, and despite the fact that I'd resolved earlier to let Susan come to Peter in her own time, I could not stop myself from telling him of our conversation. Too much had become clear to me while I'd been talking with her, too much had changed in my mind, and now her phone call had been as much about my problems as it had been about hers. I suppose that was why I'd been so easily distracted while fencing with Aden. I'd managed to hold myself together throughout the whole fencing lesson, but when I'd actually had to use my blade…well, Narnian things started to happen. I couldn't help it.

Peter said nothing, but listened intently as I spilled my thoughts to him. I was hardly aware that we were walking away from the gym, towards the bench where he and I had sparred together that one Narnian afternoon. I could see the understanding and sympathy in his eyes as I talked, though there was something else beneath them that I couldn't quite place. Was he sad? Did he perhaps understand so well because he thought the same way? I couldn't tell, and I couldn't seem to stop myself to ask. My words poured on and on, a relentless stream of confusion and faith and logic, and Aslan, I just wanted to go home…

"…so I suppose I wasn't thinking, really, when I was paired with Aden. I don't even know…" I hesitated, glancing at Peter out of the corner of my eye. "What did I do, just now? One moment I was thinking about Narnia and Aslan and wondering why we'd been allowed to leave, and the next – I was standing outside our fencing boundaries, and everyone was staring at me as though I'd turned into a centaur."

Peter shook his head.

"I think you just surprised the class," he said, his voice wonderfully calm and controlled, a stark contrast to my wild onslaught of emotion. "You just pulled a practice move on Aden. It wasn't anything terribly advanced, and you were quick about it, so really people are only going to wonder where you learned such a move…and why you decided to use it right then, I suppose. I don't think it revealed too much of our past instruction. Yes, you disarmed him, but that's not surprising because he wasn't expecting it. If he had been, you might not have knocked the sword out of his hand."

I was grateful to him for injecting some sense to my near-panic. I'd been worried that my emotions had lead me to execute something undoubtedly not-English on my unfortunate partner, but a "practice move," as Peter put it, referred to a quick maneuver often used in warm-up with Oreius. My brother was right; it was only harmful in that it would raise questions among our classmates and teacher, but it had not jeopardized our schoolboy façade.

"Thank you for getting me out of there," I said quietly. In the brief pause I'd taken from my rant to let Peter talk, my emotions had cooled, leaving me with a hollow feeling in the center of my chest. Peter noticed the change and looked at me sharply, but didn't say anything as I continued. "I wasn't thinking clearly…Aslan, I'm still not thinking clearly. I'm not sure I could have managed very well if you hadn't made an excuse to Mr. Heynes."

We had arrived at the bench we'd sparred next to several days ago. Peter sat down and pulled me close, offering the strange brother-father comfort that only he could give. I buried my face in his shoulder and tried to concentrate on the lovely, solid scent that was uniquely his, not caring that we were sitting next to a public walkway, though it was deserted for the time. He let me stay that way in silence for a few moments, holding me close, letting me draw strength from our contact.

"I'm glad you told me about your conversation with Susan," Peter said after a while. His voice was still gentle and calm, a small miracle, considering what we were talking about. "I wish…" it wavered for a moment, then steadied. "I wish she'd felt comfortable enough to come to us sooner. I wish you had been comfortable enough to come to me sooner. I'm always going to be here to help you, no matter what you think I may be going through." He tilted my head up slightly, enough to meet my eyes. "Understand?"

Of course I did. It didn't change my instinct to protect him.

"Yes," I whispered. He caught the uncertainty in my voice, knowing that it was directed internally, and asked me again.

"Do you understand that I will always be willing to help you – will always be able to help you – no matter what I may be going through? And do you understand that I want to you to come to me, no matter how strongly you feel you ought not to?" His blue eyes burned into mine, the truth of his statement searing into my thoughts, leaving no doubt. It was such a relief to hear something I had known all along…I was puzzled by the strength of my reaction.

"Yes," I repeated softly, looking down as I blinked furiously against the annoying moisture in my eyes. Aslan, I was not holding it together today.

"Good," Peter whispered, clearly relieved. He held me in silence for a little while longer, allowing me to sort my thoughts and blink my eyes dry. After a few moments, he continued. "I know how hard it is to understand what's…happened lately, but – "

"I do understand," I interrupted hoarsely, surprised again at the words coming out of my mouth, yet realizing they were true. "I understand why we had to come back. Lucy put me on the right path, and today…I realized what she was getting at when I tried to explain it to Susan. I just…I don't…" I felt something constricting my throat as my real problem surfaced again, and I struggled to put it forth to Peter. "I can't make myself truly, honestly…believe…in what we're doing here. I understand there are lessons to be learned in England. I know that. I know Aslan put us here to learn how to be ourselves outside of Narnia. I just…I can't…"

How could I possibly have been rendered inarticulate? I was the silver-tongued one. I switched tactics, slightly desperate to make sure Peter understood what I could not explain.

"I don't believe in those lessons because I can't understand why I want Narnia so badly." I fought to make to words work, and then they started to come, unchecked, from my lips. "I can't be satisfied with anything here – the trees, the air, the food, all of it – it doesn't compare, it doesn't help to get me past Narnia, only to remember what I don't have. But we're fortunate in England – we're able to attend school, we have decent food, I have you here with me – and I just don't care. I want Narnia, always…I would give up everything in England save family to just walk in Cair Paravel for an instant, to breathe that air, to see a dryad again…and it's the one thing we cannot control, we can't have, and I hate myself for wanting it, because I have you and Susan and Lucy, and that's all I ever needed in Narnia anyway. I just…I still want Narnia, and I hate myself for wanting it." I buried my face in Peter's shirt, fighting the moisture that had returned to my eyes. "How is that fair? How is it fair that I can hate myself for wanting to go home?"

Peter held me close as I clung to him, my words halted by the constriction in my throat. I thought he might have tried to speak, but he seemed to choke, and I realized that I'd hit something within him, as well. It wasn't just me who felt so sure, yet so twisted. Peter, Susan, Lucy…all of us were struggling. How I wished that we could weather this together…

"I understand," Peter murmured quietly in my ear, his voice strangely constricted. I didn't have to look at him to know that something fierce was shining from his eyes, that what he said meant that he felt it, too. "I'm so glad you told me."

"Me too," I mumbled, and he held me tighter.

"I'm going to see if there is a way to get Susan and Lucy here for a visit," he continued, and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. To see the girls again would do wonders for our current mental state. It seemed as though I could barely remember what it was like to be together, even though I'd talked to Susan earlier in the day.

"That would be nice," I said, my voice somewhat muffled by Peter's shoulder. He didn't reply, and I could tell he was smiling at me. The image seemed to fill a part of the hollow feeling in my chest – lightening it somehow – and making me realize it had been heavy before. As we sat on the bench together, I realized that, as always, my brother was right; I needed him as much as he needed me. Even in situations like this. Especially in situations like this.

And for the first time since returning to England, I began to feel truly content.

* * *

_*crawls out of a deep, dark hole*_

_Um…hi? I hope at least one of you remembers me? I'm very sorry for the long delay I left you all hanging with. I really appreciate that you take the time to read my story, and this is by no means a way to repay you lovely readers and reviewers. I'd like to thank those of you who sent me little messages asking for updates – they really have kept me going during this ridiculous period of writer's block and homework/life chaos. (grrr). _

_Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter – I am not going to promise a time period for the next update (it WILL happen – I will not abandon this story!), but I will promise to get it out as soon as I can. I hope you are having a nice Easter Holiday (chocolate bunnies!), and this is my gift to you._

_Keep Writing!_

P.S. ~ We all owe my amazing beta, phoenixqueen, an avalanche of cookies. I – with my astonishing powers of observation – accidentally posted the wrong version of this chapter. **Oops.** Thank goodness she was there to correct me on that! It sounds much better now with all her edits. :)


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